Harry Potter gets smart and takes control - the goblet
by YoullNeverCatchMeAliveSaidHe
Summary: Harry's name comes out of the goblet and he's had enough, he's sick of pretending to be stupid and constantly fighting against the whole world. It's time to step up. This is a long and a slow build though, spanning most of the fourth year. There will be no over night changes, trauma recovery takes time, months. He's not going to wake up and start ass kicking the next day.
1. Chapter 1 The Goblet

Thank you all for your patience with my Dyslexia and poor grammar. I'll be working on updating the existing chapters with the proofread chapters over the next few days.

~**_See end for Notes and Disclaimer_**~

...

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called again.

Harrys stomach sank, and he thought his dinner was going to come up. Just like first year all over again. Malnourished, half starved and the shortest on in his year, he had always struggled with the rich Hogwarts feasts.

Harry stared horrified around the hall lit only by the blue flames of the Goblet of Fire. It was dead silent, Ron was gaping at him, and Hermione was frowning slightly, as the noise rose to a dull angry bussing, like hornets.

She poked him in the ribs.

He jumped and couldn't hold back a flinch. He growled mentally at himself in irritation. It was always harder after the Dursley's. Even after being back for 2 months, with food, company and relative kindness, it was still hard to get used to being back to normal. To get used to not having to be hungry every minute of every day, not having to be on the lookout for the next blow, not having to over analyse every single little thing anyone says, for a potential threat.

"I didn't" he stuttered dumbly.

The hall sounded like a dull roar, now, people standing up and training their necks to get a better view. Someone dragged him up and pushed him towards the head table. He squirmed out of their reach. He didn't like being touched, even by his friends.

He looked at Dumbledore imploringly, half hoping...

"Up here if you please Harry" Dumbledore said and Harrys hart sank, of course not.

_Just one year,_ he thought, _just one year, I want a normal school year, where I can actually study, and not have something try to kill me._

It felt like a very long way from his spot at the end of the Gryfindore Table, up the head table

"Through the door," Dumbledore repeated when Harry reached him. Harrys heart sank, he didn't know why he had hopped Dumbledore might have dismissed him, he should have known better by now. But his heart still sank.

_They're going to make me compete anyway. They going to sit back while this thing, for older wizards and witches, for adults, tries its level best to kill me. Again! Just like they have done every single year here while something tries to kill me._

He walked though the door but didn't really hear the other champions question him or complain while Bagman explained. All he could think of was how much taller they were. All of them, he was only fourteen and yet was still the size of a first year, and he may be a closet bookworm but they knew so much more then he did, they probably also had the advantage of growing up around magic.

He was dimly aware of Professor Moody saying "some one was hoping he'd die," and of Mr Crouch saying "he has to compete," all the while Harry was shaking his head and saying, "I didn't do it," and getting ignored.

He didn't remember how he got back to the tower, but was bowled over by the wall of noise and people. It took him an age to escape, by the time he did, not a hint of Ron or Hermione, he was sweaty and shaky with anxiety, and just wants reassurance of Ron or Hermione's friendly face and to go to bed.

He finally made it upstairs and was released to see Ron lying on his bed in the otherwise empty dormitory. He looked up when Harry slammed the door behind him.

"Where've you been?" Harry said.

"Oh hello," said Ron in an odd strained sort of voice.

He was grinning, but it was a very odd, strained sort of grin. Harry flopped down on his bed and pulled Dudleys old too small shoes off.

"So," Ron said, "congratulations."

"What d'you mean, congratulations?" said Harry, staring at Ron. There was definitely something wrong with the way Ron was smiling: It was more like a grimace.

"Well. . . no one else got across the Age Line," said Ron. "Not even Fred and George. What did you use - the Invisibility Cloak?"

"What? The Invisibility Cloak wouldn't have.. I didn't..." said Harry slowly.

"Oh right," said Ron. "I thought you might've told me if it was the cloak. . . because it would've covered both of us, wouldn't it? But you found another way, did you?"

"Listen," said Harry, "I didn't put my name in that goblet. Someone else must've done it."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "What would they do that for?"

"I dunno," said Harry, not wanting to sound melodramatic and say, "To kill me," and not wanting to say it out loud, to make it real.

Ron's eyebrows rose so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his hair.

"It's okay, you know, you can tell me the truth," he said. "If you don't want everyone else to know, fine, but I don't know why you're bothering to lie, you didn't get into trouble for it, did you? That friend of the Fat Lady's, that Violet, she's already told us all Dumbledore's letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don't have to do end-of-year tests either. . ."

"I didn't put my name in that goblet! I didn't! I wanted a quiet year without someone trying over and over again to kill me!" said Harry, starting to feel angry, "I didn't do it, I want nothing to do with this stupid tournament!"

"Yeah, okay," said Ron, in exactly the same sceptical tone, "only you said this morning you'd have done it last night, and no one would've seen you..."

"What? I was joking, I didn't mean it! I want nothing to do with this stupid thing! You have to believe me!"

"I'm not stupid, you know."

"You're doing a really good impression of it," Harry snapped finally.

"Yeah?" said Ron, and there was no trace of a grin, forced or otherwise, on his face now. "You want to get to bed, Harry. I expect you'll need to be up early tomorrow for a photo-call or something."

He wrenched the hangings shut around his four-poster, leaving Harry standing there by the door, staring at the dark red velvet curtains, now hiding one of the few people he had been sure would believe him.

He grabbed his things and slipped into the bathroom a hollow sensation in his gut. He was so sure Ron would believe him Ron and Hermione were the only people who had always been there. The only people he could trust, his first ever friends.

Sure; Ron could be hot headed and talk without thinking, sure he could get jealous and persuasive sometimes. Sure, he teased Hermione endlessly about her dedication to study in such away that had Harry long ago deciding it was safer not to show his own love of book and learning, he didn't want to loose his first ever friend, not over something so silly as his passions. Sure; Ron always tried to distract him from doing his homework, but he had always been a good friend. Hadn't he?

But the more Harry thought about it the less convinced he was. He was quick to start fights, especially with Malfoy, he was judgmental. Was he really a good friend? Or was Harry blinded by his sheer desperation and relief to have a friend that he didn't see Rons faults?

He got into the shower, and sat down on the floor letting the hot water flow over him. Washing away the sweat and tension that pooling like dread in his gut.

And Hermione brilliant hermione. She was brilliant, and he envied her easily expressed passion and love of books and knowledge. But she could be bossy, and sometimes he felt she looked down on them. She would order then around like she was their mother or a teacher, she would scold and scorn them for not studying but when he did well she got jealous. She always assumed he was stupid.

Sure, he actually liked books, he loved them, hiding in the library had kept him safe as a child, nicking Dudly's unwanted books and reading them in the gloom of his cupboard has been his only entertainment as a child, they had been his only, solace, his only friends and companions, his only escape from his own living hell. But it had just been so ingrained by the Dursley's to dumb himself down - to keep himself safe from his relative's rathe - that by the time he realised he could learn and read as much as he wanted while he was safe at Hogwarts, the teachers thought him stupid. He has made a tentative friendship with Hermione who prided herself in getting top marks in everything. He hadn't wanted to jeopardise that. He'd tried to pick up his grades but between Ron always trying to get him to skive off, and Hermione's look of disappointment when he got a spell first, or did better on a test, (not to mention Snape accusing him of cheating,) he quickly realised it was safer and more peaceful just to keep dumbing himself down here too.

So he put off his homework, and did ruff shod jobs of it with Ron, and stayed up late in the safety of his bed curtness to read and study alone late into the night by wand light, where his intelligence was safe and hidden. Was he so desperate for friends that he made himself into someone he was not. Was he really prepared to let himself and his education suffer, and potentially die for it, for just for a friend or two who if they honestly cared for him, would support him. He wasn't sure anymore.

He remembered back in second year when choosing electives, Hermione's had been so happy to go over her notes on all the different subject with him that she even held off Ron's teasing of them. When she talked about them, they all sounded so good, even muggle studies sounded interesting, when she talked about it like that. But when he said maybe he would ask Mcgonagall if he could take them all to she'd rounded on him and said, "now harry, you barely pass your classes as is, don't you think you'd be better off with one or two?"

"Are you saying I'm too stupid to handle it Hermione?"

"No! No! Not al all its just..." But she trailed off, as Ron cut in, "you can't take all the classes mate, I need you to take divination and care of magical creatures with me, so we can have a free ride and play chess in all our breaks! You can't take them all."

He had felt so cowed by it it took him till the last day of term to muster up the courage to ask Professor McGonagall to take them all, ever since the incident in first year, when she had dismissed him over and over again, he hadn't felt he could talk to her.

But the more he thought about it the more he desperately wanted to try all the electives last year, especially Runes, Arithmancy and creatures, but McGonagall has said he wouldn't be able to handle them all, and even so Dumbledore had insisted he take divination and creates so he could only pick one other.

"You don't manage nearly as well as Miss Granger Potter, it just wouldn't be a good idea."

He left her office fuming, and cursing himself for needing friends enough that he let himself play dumb. He had got the same books as Hermione's though and studied them at night.

He'd even managed to use them to embed the runic magic into this trunk to get it to shrink at the tap of a wand, to be feather light, so he was able to keep his school things with him last summer. he was working on an invisibility charm for it too, but hadn't finished it yet, or the lock picks he was working on. He really should do some extra work on the warding book bill had recommended over the summer, if someone was trying to kill him. He got out of the shower and got dressed. Resolving to write to Bill and Charley for advice in the morning, and serious. He had enjoyed meeting them over the summer. He'd enjoyed hearing them talk about their jobs and their interest's, and they'd even recommended some good books on the sly, and told him to write. Their knowledge would be useful this year. He should write to Sirius too. And Professor Lupin. He may not have contacted harry at all since leaving Hogwarts last year, but he was a friend of his parents, maybe had some advice, he had been an exigent fence against the Dark Arts Teacher.

He'd work something out, he'd survived until now with little but his own wits, he'd manage. He didn't want to die.

**Notes:**

**Blanket disclaimer for whole work**: If you recognise it, it's JK's and therefor not mine.

**Added amendment**: It has recently been pointed out that this disclaimer is not quite specific enough and that some of you may have missed it. Please allow me to be more specific.

None of the recognisable, characters, dialogue, plot points, places or names belong to me. They are the property and copyright of JK Rowling and Bloomsbury Publishing (there are more publishing houses that do her work internationally, but thats the one she publishes under down on my end of the globe)

Some bits have been taken from the original (and brilliant) books. Mostly from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, but also on occasion I will reference or quote the others as well. (But nothing has been intentionally taken from Cursed Child or the Fantastic Beasts screen plays, as I haven't actually read those ones)

I am not going to individually quote and reference every one as I am not profiting in any way, and this disclaimer should cover it. That and a lot of the bits I have included from the original work have been tweaked a little or expanded on a little, leaving some bits in ittalicks and every few words not in italics is to irritating to the reader.

This is just a little sneak peek of something I've been working on, I'm pretty excited about it! More to come later, I'm too tired to edit any more tonight, unless you all want to be subjected to my unedited Dyslexic spelling.(No I don't mean it as a figure of speech I really am Dyslexic)


	2. Chapter 2 Facing Hermione

Has been edited, just to fix up some spelling and grammar.

Thank you to TGolds for pointing out an issue with the display!

Thank you to HeartsGlow for pointing out an error!

...

When Harry woke up the next morning, it took him a moment to remember why he felt so miserable and anxious. Then the memory of the previous night rolled over him. He sat up and ripped back the curtains of his four-poster, intending to talk to Ron, to force Ron to believe him - only to find that Ron's curtains were shut and it was still ridiculously early.

He got up and got dressed into Dudley's cast-offs, ignoring the familiar feeling of shame and disgust at having to wear them under his school robes, and thought wistfully of one day having his own clothes, that were not so big they fell off him.

First, he wrote to Bill and Charlie. He'd met Ron's brothers over the summer at the Quidditch World Cup. He desperately hoped that they would believe him and not shun him as Ron had. They had been interesting to talk to, always seemed happy to share stories of their time at school, and of their jobs. He couldn't believe that they had been happy to talk to their kid brothers dorky friend. But they had, Bill had told him about curse breaking, the subjects he'd had to study to get there, and the training and study Gringotts had put him though.

"It was hard work, but brilliant and worth every minute. It's great fun," Bill had told him. And Harry wished anew that he had managed to talk his professors into letting him take Arithmancy and Runes as well. Bill had recommended some great book to him though, and Harry had already borrowed them from the library and was halfway through, if not finished most of them. And Charley always had a story about some creature or other, especially Norberta. They had both offered harry a lot of sound advice, it was really novel having an older not-horrible person to talk to and get advice from. They'd both told him to write to them any time. He hadn't felt brave enough before now, not wanting to waste their time, but he was pretty desperate now. He needed all the help he could get, and maybe if he got to them first, be for Ron, they would turn him away. The two letters were pretty similar:

"Dear Bill,

Sorry it's taken me so long to write before now.

I honestly was worried you'd think me wasting your time. I'm sure you have more important things to do than write to your brothers' friend. But something happened, and I'm pretty desperate for some advice.

If you haven't heard, Hogwarts is host to the Triwizard Tournament. Cedric Diggory is the Hogwarts champion, but last night after all three contestants were chosen, a fourth name came out. Mine.

I didn't do it. I didn't enter, I promise you! I want nothing to do with it but no one will believe me, not even Ron! (sorry, I know he's your brother.) I don't know what to do. I don't know how to get out of it and everyone says I have to compete as it's a binding magical contract. I don't even know what that is? I've never read about them, and I'm more well-read than people think. I was hoping that in your work for Gringotts you might know something about them? Or have any advice on where I could look? Please help. I don't know what to do, I don't know what the tasks are going to be, and I'm 3 years behind everyone else, and I'm desperate to learn as much as I can about everything, in the small hope of it helping me not die in this thing. Moody said that's why I was entered, so someone can kill me. Thoughts?

Thanks for the book recommendations, by the way, I'm most of the way through the last few, the ones on the Egyptian hieroglyphic's were fascinating, it was the only one in the library on Egyptian runes. Can you recommend any more? The history of the Pictograms and how their development changed their magical uses was fascinating, especially how they flowed through to the Muggles and the Rosetta Stone. Any other book recommendations? The first lot were brilliant. I actually have loads more to say about the others, (I made notes!) I'll tell you more about what I thought of them later if you like, (I did have a few questions about that Panama Ingot Curse one book mentioned) but I want to get these owls off fast, I'm writing to Charlie too. I don't really have many adults or anyone outside of school I can ask.

Sorry to bother you

Thanks in advance,

Harry

PS how'd the Romney Dig go? Any cool curses?"

"Dear Charlie,

Sorry it's taken me so long, to write before now.

I honestly was worried you'd think me wasting your time, I'm sure you have more important things to do than write to your brothers' friend. But something happened, and I'm pretty desperate for some advice.

If you haven't heard, Hogwarts is host to the TriWizard Tournament. Cedric Diggory is the Hogwarts champion, but last night after all three contestants were chosen, a fourth name came out. Mine.

I didn't do it, I didn't enter, I promise you, I want nothing to do with it. No one will believe me, even Ron (sorry) I don't know what to do. I don't know how to get out of it and everyone says I have to compete as it's a binding magical contract. I don't even know what that is? I've never even read about them, and I'm more well-read than people think. I've written to Bill to, maybe he knows about them, through Gringotts. I was hoping you had some advice on if not how to get out of it, then on not dying in it. You've worked with all sorts of dangerous creatures and situations. Any advice? Or book recommendations to help me stay alive? Please help. I don't know what to do, I don't know what the tasks are going to be, and I'm 3 years behind everyone else, and I'm desperate to learn as much as I can about everything, in the small hope of it helping me not die in this thing. Moody said that's why I was entered, so someone can kill me. Thoughts?

Thanks for the book recommendations, by the way, I'm most of the way through the last few. I enjoyed reading about the baby dragons, it was especially interesting how their growth and development are affected by whether they grew up orphaned or with their own kind. It was fascinating. Any other book recommendations?

That first lot were brilliant. I actually have loads more to say about them, (I made notes!) I'll tell you more about what I thought of them later if you want, (I did have a few questions about that Hebridean Black one book mentioned) but I want to get these owls off fast. I don't really have many adults or anyone outside of school I can ask.

Sorry to bother you

Thanks in advance,

Harry

PS I meant to ask, has Norberta laid her eggs yet?"

With those written, he also writes a quick note to Sirius, and after some hesitation, Professor Lupin. He may not have made any effort to contact Harry since he left, but Lupin was still a friend of his parents and had been a brilliant teacher, maybe he could offer help, after all, he wasn't their teacher any longer.

He stopped by at Professor McGonagall's office and knocked on the way back from the Owlery.

She opened the door, bleary eyes, but fully dressed.

"What do you want Potter?"

"I need to make up for 3 years of bad marks and catch up to the seventh years so this thing sons kill me."

"It's too early for this Potter. You'll be fine, and we can't offer you any help anyway, you know this. Visit the library for a change, and maybe get Miss Granger to do some revision with you."

Harry sighed disappointment swelling, but thanked her and left.

The castle was still quiet so he pulled his invisibility cloak out of his pocket and went outside. It was cool out. If he was going to survive he needed to be in shape, he was skinny as a rake and had hardly any muscle despite his previous quidditch playing. He started out going for a run along the edge of the lake, where the Durmstrang ship was moored, reflected blackly in the water. It was a chilly morning, but by the time he got around a good bit of the lake, he was a punting, aching, ball of sweat but he felt better. His head was clearer and he knew what he had to do. Sod the teachers, sod Ron, he needed to study and learn and get smarter, no-one was going to help him (well maybe Hermione) and he may as well get used to it because it had always been him against the world. So he would study and train hard. But first, he needed a shower and breakfast.

Harmony met him outside the portrait hole after his shower.

"Hello," she said, holding up a stack of toast, which she was carrying in a napkin. "I brought you this... Want to go for a walk?"

"Thanks," said Harry gratefully, a slight weight lifting off his shoulders when she didn't immediately reject him.

They went downstairs, crossed the entrance hall quickly without looking in at the Great Hall, and were soon striding across the lawn along the edge of the forest. Past where the Beauxbatons carriage was, its blue and gold gilding glinting in the weak Scottish Sun. They munching their toast, as Harry told Hermione exactly what had happened after he had left the Gryffindor table the night before. To his immense relief, Hermione accepted his story without question.

"Well, of course, I knew you hadn't entered yourself," she said when he'd finished telling her about the scene in the chamber off the Hall. "The look on your face when Dumbledore read out your name! But the question is, who did put it in? Because Moody's right Harry... I don't think any student could have done it. . . they'd never be able to fool the Goblet, or get over Dumbledore's -"

"I know, its last year all over again, but have you seen Ron?" Harry interrupted. Hermione hesitated.

"Erm. . . yes. . . he was at breakfast," she said.

"Does he still think I entered myself?"

"Well. . . no, I don't think so . . . not really," said Hermione awkwardly.

"What's that supposed to mean, 'not really'?"

"Oh Harry, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said despairingly. "He's jealous!"

Harry sighed, I thought so"Jealous? But seriously, he could use his brain, what there to be Jealous of? He wants to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school, does he? And end up died"

"Look," said Hermione patiently, "it's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it's not your fault," she added quickly. "I know you don't ask for it... but - well - you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous - he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many. . .

"Great," said Harry bitterly. "Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants. Tell him from me he's welcome to it... People gawping at me everywhere I go... just because my family was brutally murdered"

"I'm not telling him anything," Hermione said shortly. "Tell him yourself. It's the only way to sort this out."

"I'm not running around trying to make him grow up! I'm sick of it. I'm so sick of people stabbing me in the back." Harry said, so loudly that several owls in a nearby tree took flight in alarm. "Maybe he'll believe I'm not enjoying myself once I've got my neck broken or -"

"That's not funny," said Hermione quietly. "That's not funny at all."

She looked extremely anxious, "Harry, I've been thinking - you know what we've got to do, don't you? Straight away, the moment we get back to the castle?"

"Yeah, give Ron and the rest of the world a good kick up the -"

"Write to Sirius. You've got to tell him what's happened. He asked you to keep him posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. . . . It's almost as if he expected something like this to happen. I brought some parchment and a quill out with me -"

"I've already written to him,"

"Really? Well done," she said in surprise

"I'm not stupid you know," he said flatly, suddenly too tired to be angry or to lie.

Gods he was so tired...

"Well, that's not what I..." She stuttered.

"I know I don't do well in class, but I actually am pretty smart. Really. The Dursley just beat it into me not to do better than Dudley, and Dudley is stupid. So I had to be stupider so it wasn't taken out on my hide." Literally, he added mentally, "by the time I realised I could read here as much as I liked and to be as much of a nerd as I liked, and was allowed to get good marks if I wanted... Well, you were top of the class and enjoying it. Ron was picking on you for it, and nagging about skiving off all the time, and how much he hated books and studying. Then that one time I did try to do well, I really liked potions when I first came here, it was the class I was looking forward to most. But Snape was calling me a cheat and it was just safe to keep pretending to be stupid. But I'm not. I'm not stupid. I may not have your perfect memory, but I bet I could give you a run for your money if I bothered."

Hermione just looked at him, stumped.

"You mean to tell me, you've been deliberately getting bad marks?!" She shrieked

He winced but nodded.

"Because Ron is a prat and you were... you were scared of losing our friendship?" She continued, scandalised

He nodded, scuffing the toe of his too small shoes in the dirt, "you two were the first friends I ever had." He said kicking his foot abruptly as dirt got into his socks through the holes in his ratty shoes.

She looked torn between sad and happy, "you're my friend Harry, my first friend. I know what that's like Harry, that fear. But friends trust each other and are there for each other. I'm sorry you didn't feel comfortable letting your intelligence out. I'm sorry I didn't see it and wasn't a better friend. I'm sorry if I acted like you were stupid, or needed babying. Really, I didn't mean it that way. I admit I do get competitive when it comes to my marks but I would never choose school over my friendship with you. Truly." She said earnestly looking him in the eye. He squirmed, he'd heard about mind reading, but it was Hermione so he met her gaze, surely he could trust her.

"Let me in, let me get to know the real Harry, I've always wanted someone to study with and talk about books with and have long complex debates about whose theory is right only to find we were both wrong and come up with a better one," she said all in one long breath, much like she had on the train when they first met.

He laughs at that, "sounds nice, lord knows I'm going to have to study hard this year to make it out alive, it's for 7th years. And I know jack shit"

"Language Harry!"

He shrugged, "its not as if I've ever been any good at this magical world thing, no matter what I read it still doesn't make sense, it's so frustrating, I'm not stupid, really I'm not, but there's just so much that's confusing or doesn't make sense!"

"We'll work on it, I'll make a stuffy plan, we'll go back to basics, I know you still struggle with the theory and it's important. And we can go over some runes and Arithmancy, I know you were interested in it back in Second Year."

"I nicked you course book list at the start of 3rd year, I got my own copy, I've been self-studying, all of the classes except muggle studies, and they wouldn't let me drop Divination so..." He admitted.

"Oh! Brilliant Harry! I'll go over my notes with you. Maybe the professors will agree to let you do an independent study for it, give you the assignments and exams for it! And then mark them for you. I'll ask them." She paused, "would you like me to ask them, Harry?"

He is so relieved he hugged her. She was surprised, pleasantly so, she knew he hated being touched. But She hugged back gently so he didn't feel trapped. She was careful to let him go as soon as he started to squirm.

"Thanks, Hermione." He said, his voice a little wobbly.

"Anything Harry, you're my best friend."

"You too Hermione, you too."


	3. Chapter 3 Plots begin to be revealed

**NOTES:**

I've just updated it with some Spelling/Grammar fix. Please be patient with me.

It occurred to me some may appreciate trigger warnings, so I've put a bunch in the end notes incase they're needed.

Happy reading!

...

Hermione went to her dorm and brought her bag down full of all her books and notes, and they commandeer an old dusty classroom, by the kitchens.

"Right we are going to go right back to basics and draw up a schedule. With a solid bass, everything will be much easier." She said, pulling out her books and some parchment.

"Thanks, there is still so much that doesn't make sense." Harry admitted, "It doesn't seem to matter how much I read, somethings just don't make sense, it's as if I'm just missing something." He continued absently picking at steam in Dudley's shirt, "I'm not stupid. I'm really smart. I may not have your 'magic memory,' I'll never be able to quote verbatim from a textbook I have to work to remember things. Just looking at a page, and reading it was not enough. I have to actually understand something and why it was so, to remember it. And there's just much just didn't make any sense. And I read! All our books, and any other ones that seem related, or any that just seem interesting! I spend more time hidden behind my bed curtains reading by wand light than I do sleeping. But It was as if I'm just not getting something. It was so frustrating Hermione. It's as if it was just out of my reach and I should be getting it. I'm now I'm not stupid but it shouldn't be that hard, but something is just..."

He let out a grunt of frustration and balled up his mostly blank parchment. Tossing it in the air he incinerating it with a jab of his wand.

"I didn't realise Harry," Hermione said concern colouring her tone.

"Having to balance genuinely not understanding completely, (no matter how hard I try, and no matter how much I read) with making sure grades were not too high while wanting to make sure I knew it and felt comfortable with it, is hard. Gods, Hermione, it's so hard. I'm so tired. How many times had I reviewed the essay's over and over again to get them perfect, and then only to have to scribble down a half-assed answer the second before with Ron, to make it seem like I was average and not caring... I'm so tired, it's getting too much. I just... why can't I do it? I love learning, but nothing makes sense. It's like shoving my head against a brick wall, and even if it does make sense I have to pretend it doesn't because it's not flipping safe. I'm never safe." He finished at a whisper, head on the desk, breathing hard.

He jumped when Hermione put a hand on his shoulder and he nearly fell out of his chair.

"Sorry, sorry, I forgot!" She exclaimed.

"it- it's fine," he said forcing himself to take a breath, his hands shook.

"Maybe after pretending all this time... maybe I am Stupid...just like they said..." He admitted lowly

"Oh Harry, no" Hermione said, moving slowly so as to telegraph her movement this time, she took his hand gently in her own, "you're not, I know we all must act like it but now you've said something so much makes sense, truly you're not. Something odd is going on. I'm sure of it. Maybe if we review the basics it will help."

He took a shuddering breath.

"there's more to being smart than books and O grades," she said giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

He nodded and took another shuddering breath. She was right, of course, he could beat anyone on street smarts, people smarts, real-world smarts. Lord knows he had spent enough time when it was only his understanding of people and being able to predict them that had kept him safe. Or not really safe but alive. He had spent enough time on the streets out in the real world to know what it was like, how to survive and what it took. None of his peers could say the same. They wouldn't last a night out on the streets, it took more than book smarts to manage that, to the Dursley's disappointment. But understanding the real world didn't necessarily make him the smartest and most intelligent in an academic setting, just that he was capable of stubbornly not dying yet...

He thunked his head down on the desk in front of him, balling up another bit of parchment that was his failing plan, or lack thereof.

'Start again with your first-year books,' he thought 'start with the basics get a solid foundation and work your way up. Frustrating however it may feel, taking the time to start at the start and really work it out, master the basics was the best, most surefire way to succeed in tackling the more advanced topics needed to surviving this blasted tournament.'

And anyway Hermione seemed to be on his side now. She said she would help, he wasn't alone, and Bill and Charlie would reply soon. And hopefully, Sirius, though it had taken ages last time.

Maybe he could stop playing dumb. If Hermione was on his side and not going to get jealous, and Ron had already abandoned him, what need did he have to play dumb, to blend into a sea of monotony?

But why did he have a niggling, heavy feeling in his gut that it wasn't safe...

"We'll go all the way back to the start, you'll see Harry," Hermione said cutting off his spiralling thoughts, "it will make sense. Do you want to revise the basic spells as well for first year onwards as well?"

"Er no? But maybe just a quick review later? I'm good at spells, with physical things, things I can do with my hands. The combination of muscle-memory paired with the verbal component suites me. I had to deliberately hold back so as not to draw attention in my spell casting. It was actually as fun as it was an irritation. It was fun to work out how to get it wrong and get away with the lie. Sometimes I practised minimising the incantation or silent incanting or near-silent incanting, so it that it genuinely took longer."

"Really? That's brilliant, that a useful skill harry. Silent casting is meant to be really advanced, as is minimal casting! We should defiantly keep working on it if you've already started! Will you teach me too?" Hermione clapped her hands in excitement, and continued like a train barreling downhill, "but for now we'll start with the theory. Did you read the Muggleborn guide to basic magical theory?"

"The what?" He said blankly.

"The Muggleborn guide to Magical Theory. It was in the Wizarding introduction book list we got given," she said eyes wide

"What introduction book list...?"

"You weren't given it? But there's so much in there that's so important!" She cried, pulling out books, and then a flourish and blots owl order catalogue.

"No wonder nothings making sense! You can borrow mine, for now, we'll work through it, but you might want your own. I know you like annotating your books, and I don't" she said.

"so there really is something missing? I'm not stupid?" He asked in shocked disbelieve.

"Oh, Merlin no harry!" She said as she pulled out a battered old book list.

"The books on the list covered the basics of magic, your magical core, health - how wizards and witches differ from muggles, meditation and the mind. It also covers the absolute basics in all our subjects here, that most wizard raised would learn as children. There's also a general one that goes into some of the subjects not taught here. The books also go over laws, jobs, services in the magical world, how society works and the government, it even looks at basic cultural history, the religion one was fascination. The social structure and rules are fascinating as well, it's not like the muggle world, it's a like going to a totally different country!"

"I think I better get a copy of these..." He said as it dawned on him, horrifyingly, how much he didn't know, how much had been... kept from him.

"How much is your budget?" She said pulling out the catalogue and order forms.

"Erm... I don't actually even know how much is in my vault, just that there's a lot... I think? At least it seemed that way when your short and never even had a single pence in your life... It has to last me through school and until I get a job" He said awkwardly, "I never really got a chance to ask, Hagrid was there, and then Mrs Weasley and then something always came up in that week I was in Diagon in our third year..."

"We'll right an owl to them, surely they'll have a statement or something, then we can figure out what you can afford. Didn't you get a proper introduction though? The Heads of Houses normally visit all the Muggleborns and explain everything" She said getting out a quill and ink, and drafting up the letter for him.

"No... my relatives knew but didn't bother explaining, they didn't want me to go. Hagrid made them, took me to Diagon Ally, we got mobbed. I didn't even know what the 'boy-who-lived was... then he took me back to the Dursley's and they locked my stuff up."

"Wow Harry. That's really odd, I don't want to jump to conclusions but it looks like you've been deliberately kept in the dark... But we'll sort it out. Look over that will you?" She said, passing over the letter she'd drafted.

Harry read the letter to Gringotts, but hesitated before signing his name, "This is going to sound super stupid, but did the info pack show you how to use quill because I still struggle. I don't want the Goblins to think I didn't make an effort or don't care, just because my writing is atrocious."

"Of course," she said kindly and started showing him how to do it.

And so they studied. Harry practised writing with a quill after Hermione had shown how to hold it properly, and the right angle.

"there's also a trick to how much ink you load it with, and how much you tap off against the ink well" she'd demonstrated, "and how often you need to re-cut them, and at what angle you cut" she'd continued, "there's a book in the list, that talks you through it, with examples and diagrams and exercises. It goes right through normal note taking script, nice cursive scripts, and even various different types of elegant and elaborate calligraphy."

Hermione started working through the basics with Harry and going over the most important aspects of the introduction pack. It was made abundantly clear by dinner time, that there was a lot that Harry didn't know. Not through lack of trying, however, almost as if it had been deliberately kept from him.

"Honestly there should be spares in the Library but I when I went to reference one last year, I'd left mine at home, Madam Pince said they didn't carry them anymore." She said letting out a huff of frustration.

They were so engrossed in studying Hermione's introduction texts that they worked right through lunch and most of dinner.

"Oh gosh," Hermione said looking at the time, we've missed lunch and the start of dinner! How did we not notice?"

"Huh? Oh, don't really notice being hungry anymore..." Harry trailed off

Hermione looked at him in askance, concerned.

"You don't notice the difference when it's a constant, that's all," he mumbled.

"But I thought, because you here, and foods not withheld here like your relatives..." Hermione said confused.

"Not like my relatives no..." said Harry slowly starting to put their books away.

"but... I'm sensing a but here..."

Harry sighed, "I don't want to complain or anything, it's not like I'm not getting three meals a day. Really I'm grateful, but between exercising and using magic all day, and food doing weird things in the great hall all the time. I spend more time hungry than not. I'm just tired all the time, it's sometimes hard to even think straight, I can't seem to concentrate on it, it slips away before I can even try and do something about it. I really just want some red meat or some greens, or some chocolate especially after quidditch practices but it never seems to be an option. There just never seems to be enough to go round. But it's fine don't worry doubt it. It's nothing"

"Harry that doesn't sound fine. Why don't you just put more on your plate though? There's always plenty of food on the tables. Ron certainly eats enough for about 4 people. And I've been raging at you for years to eat more."

"I can't"

"What?"

"Remember back in our first year when I kept trying to have seconds or to have dessert? And it would vanish" he asked.

"That sounds... worrying Harry but I can't remem..." she trailed off and pinched her nose as if she had a headache.

"You okay?" Harry asked

"Yeah I just got a headache suddenly but it seems to have passed. What were you saying?"

"Hermione, are you okay? We were just talking about... you don't remember?" Harry said fear sparking in his gut.

"Of course, I think so... what were you saying?"

"I was talking about being hungry a lot, even here and food in the great hall acting weird. But just for me." Harry said again frowning at her in concern.

"Odd I could have sworn it had stopped... I can almost.. but I don't.." She rubbed her eyes, wincing

"are you okay?"

"It's just a bit hard to focus, it's just slipping..." She trailed off, "say it again."

"I think someones trying to manipulate what I can eat to keep me weak and unhealthy, to keep my pliable." He said flatly, trying and failing to keep the fear out of his voice.

"First year!" She said having a moment of clarity.

"Yeah, it started in our first year. I was skinny and starved when I got to Hogwarts. I was so excited about being able to have meals like the real kids and to have sweets but they made me sick. Even on the train,"

"Really? She cut in, "you never said-"

" Of course I didn't tell anyone, I wanted to be normal"

"Oh, Harry,"

"I wasn't used to eating much so I was sick after the feast and realised I couldn't eat much or it made me sick. McGonagall noticed-"

"Professor McGonagall harry"

"No Hermione, Professor is a term of respect, and respect is earned, not blindly given. She hasn't earned it. Yes, she's smart and isn't a bad teacher compared to some, but she's let me down, time and time again. I asked her for help this morning she turned me away. Didn't even really listen. It's not the first time."

"but-" Hermione cut herself off, "it goes against everything I was taught, but I get I can understand where you're coming from."

"that's all I can ask, anyway she dragged me to Pomfrey, who muttered about having avoided this if I'd just come for the first year Muggleborn check in like he was meant too."

"We all got them," Hermione cut in, "we needed shots and medical history for future reference, did you not get one?"

"No, hadn't even heard about it and I said that so, I tried to ask McGonagall but she had left. So Pomfrey just said basically what you just said. She told me to come back on the weekend for it, and that it was weird that I'd missed out. She swishing her wand in a complicated pattern and then glared at it, mumbling, 'that man, I'll hang him by his whiskers' and something else I couldn't make out." Harry continued, "She gave me a potion, green and brown one, and said, 'here, take one teaspoon before every meal, it will help you eat again, its a nutrient potion too. Never thought I'd see the day, actually, need it here. It was designed for treating famine in third world countries... She said she'd talk to the elves for me, and to come back on Sunday for your shots and a proper check up.'"

"That doesn't sound too bad" Hermione commented

"It got worse." He said bluntly, "I'd been dreading it, I hate doctors, I was terrified that she would see..." He trailed off, "that she'd know about the Dursley's, people finding out just brought trouble before. But when I did go, she had no recollection of my visit at all. Told me to stop wasting her time, when I was clearly fine. I even asked about my shots, but she dismissed me. It did sew a seed of doubt though. Why didn't she remember it."

"Harry, that's..."

"mmhm," he agreed, "I finished the potion it helped loads. I noticed there was less put on my plate, and less rich foods around me, having been to see her. More bland ones, it helped, I wasn't bringing it back up as often as I had at the start. She said to have snacks in-between classes, nuts and fruit and things to make up for the tiny meals. I didn't notice at first but whenever I took something from the table for later and put it in my bag, it was never there when I went back for it. It kept vanishing."

"And the food kept vanishing off your plate! When you then tried to have seconds in the hall, to make up for it" Hermione said remembering.

"Yeah, not straight away but yeah. I'd almost managed to work my way up to managing all of my small meals in the hall, sometime around Christmas. I'd finally started putting on some weight. I was so pleased to finally have some padding on my bones, my stomach wasn't even that sunken anymore. It wasn't a lot but it helped. I was still hungry a lot though. So I figured if I couldn't eat between meals as she'd said, I could have seconds. I'd just have to learn to eat more in one go as everyone else did. But then the food started vanishing from my plate. I could put vegetables and meats and a small helping of food on my plate the first time, but never much or it would vanish, and only if I took the healthier options. But as soon as I went for seconds or deserts, it would vanish. I even asked Ron to put some on my plate, in case it was just me. But it vanished when I tried taking some from Ron's plate it vanished halfway to my mouth. I even plucked up the courage to ask McGonagall about it, but she got an odd look in her eye and said not to be silly."

"I really thought it had stopped..." She trailed off looking a bit dazed.

"Please don't forget again!" He pleaded taking her hands and looking at her straight in the eye, "please, I don't want to keep struggling on my own, please I need you in my corner!"

"I... I'm scared Harry, somethings going on. Somethings making me disregard it. Keep talking." Her voice shook.

"Well it didn't stop, I just learnt not to ask for more than it lets me. I'm used to being hungry all the time. Its all I've ever known. It was so novel that first train ride, to be able to have sweets and chocolate. It was so nice, and it tastes so good Hermione, I finally understood why Dudley liked it! And I'd been so pleased to finally manage to get some padding on my bones. I was still skinny as hell but was finally filling out a bit, almost normal looking. But I figured it's just how it is 'cause I'm a freak. Freaks don't get to eat, we don't get nice things. It won't even let me have gravy or anything like that, let alone treacle tart. It smells so good, I want to try it one day Hermione. It's as if someones keeping me on Dudley's fancy weight loss diet."

"That's ridiculous Harry! You're so skinny, the last thing you need is a weight loss diet. And you're not a freak!"

"I know. Gods I'm so boney I hate it, Hermione I want to be normal! I hate being so skinny! I'm cold all the time, and everything hurts when I fall over, there's no padding, I break at the drop of a hat and snap things. I've actually been trying to gain some weight, but between the tables here and the Dursley's I'm doomed to be a short skinny shit forever!"

"Oh Harry," she moaned out, "That is very odd harry, and very worrying. Why didn't I notice before"

"Why didn't we notice? We would have picked away at it as we did with The Stone. It's not like us. How did we not notice? Someone controlling you like that, keeping you hungry all the time, like your relatives... how did no-one notice."

"I've always been hungry, never been able to have a proper meal in my life... its nothing special. And it's not like the Dursley's, I got 3 meals a day. Mostly."

It's not like the Dursley's I'm not being starved, I get three meals a day, but its never enough. I'm always hungry and also trying to recover from whatever injury I have, or got over the summer of being starved. It's just. Don't worry about it, forget I said anything."

"That's not okay, now I think about it, yes you are fed, but now I think about it, it was never very much, and never overly nutritious, tiny portions and never any red meat, few green vegetables, like you said, and never any sweets, or even that wide a range of food. I never really noticed before. How I missed it. I don't know. It is it's really odd, and we never noticed, we let it slip aside, that's weird!"

"I don't know, every time I mentioned it people seemed to just forget. Like Pomfrey with the health check, she'd been muttering about whiskers or something but I don't know." Harry replied

"Harry you don't think..." She trailed off

Harry shrugged, wondering if she meant Dumbledore, but not wanting to say it, he had learnt that the walls had ears. How else would anyone know he had finally been starting to get to a healthy weight back in our first year. He'd been talking about it in front of the Fat Lady's portrait, and how nice it was to be able to have as much chocolate as he wanted. How he was sure if he wasn't careful he'd end up as big as a house. He'd been joking of course, but maybe the portraits had heard and told Dumbledore, or maybe it was McGonagall.

A sick feeling of dread coiled in his gut.

"Your right I guess, but every time I try and sort it, it slips away. It's made me really think that... but maybe... maybe something made us" he paused, thinking, "made us... not forget, like with Lockheart, but more make us forget it was important. Maybe it was made to slip our mind, and to be picked back our minds. It's not as if we didn't have more important things to do, like the stone, the basilisk."

"Why bother though, who is going to that much to control you through what you eat. Its a bit extreme, why bother, " Hermione asked thinking aloud, "and who..."

"We need to go-" Harry said suddenly cutting her off and looking around

"What?" Hermione said surprised.

"We've been alone all day, someone might come looking, or be keeping tabs on us, there are no portraits in this room, but I don't think it's safe to talk here..."

"Harry that's a bit.."

"It's not paranoia if someone really is out to get you..." He said flatly packing their books and things away, "please Hermione."

"Of course" she acquiesced after a moment.

...

**NOTES:**

Trigger warnings:

Child abuse

Body image issues

Weight issues

Food

Grownups being controlling manipulative assholes and neglectfully oblivious.

I worked really hard on this chapter I hope you liked it. I have another one, that i'll post tonight, I need to spell check it again before that one goes up.

I know it may seem odd or extreme but its necessary and will may sense later. I wanted to look at the abuse of, and manipulation of Harry from a slightly different direction from what's normally done in these things.

Yes Minerva is not the best teacher in this one, though it will be looked at again later. (Sorry Minerva lovers, I like her too, but this story needed less adults around able to help. It will be talked about later. She may get redeemed later but no promises.) A lot of grownups in a position of power over him have been outright neglectful, or are being maliciously controlling. I know it might seem extreme, definitely more so that in cannon, but that's the way the cookie's crumbling at the moment.

Also I'm not body shaming, Harrys just bitter and angry and venting, when he makes those comments.

Fun fact:

There is a trainee service dog in the waiting room of my Dr's office as I write this. He's adorable and also hilarious. He's not terribly impressed at being left in the foyer while his human is with the doctor. I'm trying desperately not to laugh at his antics. Its not very conductive to writing 'anxious-mess/angry!Harry scenes. But gods it's put a smile on my face :)

Happy Reading people.


	4. Chapter 4 The House Elves

Just some spelling and grammar updates.

I had this bit all sorted, it had taken me a whole two days to get this chapter right, with out being too obvious or villainizing the wrong characters. I'd finished it and was going to post it at lunch yesterday, and then I had an idea! So then I had to re-work the whole thing!

Also I do enjoy writing House Elf speech patterns, they're fun.

Happy Reading

...

"The house elves might know about it... if somethings going on," Hermione said later as they were catching the end of dinner in the hall.

"Huh?"

She pointed to his plate and surreptitiously cast a charm around them, to stop eavesdroppers.

"Let's go to the kitchen and ask the elves. If we can't ask witches and wizards, maybe we can ask elves, they have different magic from us, just look at Dobby."

"Thought you didn't like house elves."

"Oh I don't like it when they're badly treated, used and abused. I think they're brilliant, but it's okay here, I've gone and talked to them. Some, like Dobby, are treated like slaves. I want to change the laws one day so they're trended better. I'd try and free them all. Slavery is wrong, they need our magic to survive, that's why they bond, it's a symbiotic relationship. Symbiotic is when-"

"I know what that means Hermione," Harry said gently.

"Oh sorry, Harry I-"

"It's fine, you're used to me playing stupid.

She nodded but continued, "Anyway they bond to wizards and get magic from them, and in return, they do cooling and cleaning and things, they have a really fascinating culture, and do genuinely enjoy it. But there is a lot of room for abuse of the system, that's what S.P.E.W is going to work to change. But they do the cooking and cleaning and send the food to the tables. Let's go to the kitchens we'll talk to the elves, maybe they know something."

"Okay, maybe I can get more than a measly bowl of rice while we're at it."

Hermione led the way down to the kitchen and showed him how to tickle the pear to get in. He'd never been to the kitchens before. Immediately many heads turned to look at them and froze in motion. It was like being surrounded by hundreds of Dobby statues.

"Is it always like this...?" Harry murmured to Hermione

"No..." She said concern colouring her tone.

"You is not being here sir!" A young elf said, coming barreling towards them.

"Huh?" Harry said.

"You is not meant to be here. We is not allowed to be helping you, sir," the elf said grabbing his neighbour's saucepan and trying to hit himself over the head with it.

"Stop that!" Harry said grabbing the pot.

The elf started wailing and was dragged away by another.

"What can Tippy be doing for young Sir and Miss?" An older house elf wheezed in a high pitched squeak. She had tennis-ball like pale blue eyes, long ears with tufts of white poking out and was wearing a neatly pressed tea towel with the Hogwarts crest on it.

"Hello Tippy, we wanted to talk to one of you, as something strange is happening to Harry at the table... I think...he's not being able to eat enough." Hermione trailed bending down to talk at their level.

Tippy wrung her hands together, her big eyes welling, "Tippy can't! Sir and miss, we is not allowed. You should not be being here Harry Potter sir." She yanked on her batlike ears, "Tippy wants to be feeding Mr Harry Potter up miss, you is much too thin," she said poking Harry's boney hip accusingly, "but we is not being allowed." She sniffed

"Why not?" He asked.

She bit her lip and shook her head.

"You were ordered to and you can't tell me anything?" He asked recognising the behaviour from Dobby, his heart sinking.

"Tippy can't sir." Tippy almost wailed tugging painfully at her ears.

"Stop! Please don't hurt yourself," Harry cried bending down and gently taking her hands, "it's not your fault. You have your orders, it's not your fault, I'm not mad. I understand. I thought you said it was okay here, that they were not miss treated?" He asked turning to Hermione.

"I thought it was. But I guess they're bound to the will of their master whether they like it or not, we'll just have to make a system that allows them to have their own free will too. And to protect them from needing to self punish. We'll work on it harry." Hermione replied somewhat forlornly.

Tippy tugged one of her hands frees and tapped a finger against his knuckles thoughtfully.

"Tippy can't sir..." She said carefully, no longer crying, "Tippy wants to sir. We" she gesticulated widely around the room, "is wanting to help yous very much, but we is not allowed, sir." She sniffled again, blew her nose on her Tea Towel and vanished the mess, before looking at him, her teary eyes peering at him with sudden seriousness, "Tippy can't... Tippy can't be helping Mr Harry Potter sir." She said slowly deliberately.

"But maybe someone else could!" Hermione exclaimed picking up on what the elf was not saying.

Tippy beaming again, but said "Tippy can't say, miss, Tippy can neither confirm or deny miss" while tilting her head down in an ever so slight nod, before she pointed to the back of the kitchens.

"Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter!"

Next second all the wind had been knocked out of him as a squealing elf hit him hard in the midriff and would have knocked him backwards if not for Hermione catching him.

"D-Dobby?" Harry gasped and the elf hugged him so tightly he thought he heard ribs creak.

"It is Dobby, sir, it is!" squealed the voice from somewhere around his navel. "Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see him, sir!"

"I didn't realise you were here Dobby, or I would have come sooner," he assured.

Dobby let go and stepped back a few paces, beaming up at Harry, his enormous, green, tennis-ball-shaped eyes brimming with tears of happiness.

"You is too kind sir,"

He looked almost exactly as Harry remembered him; the pencil-shaped nose, the bat-like ears, the long fingers and feet - all except the clothes, which were very different.

He was wearing the strangest assortment of garments Harry had ever seen; he had done an even worse job of dressing himself than the wizards at the World Cup. He was wearing a tea cosy for a hat, on which he had pinned a number of bright badges; a tie patterned with horseshoes over a bare chest, a pair of what looked like children's soccer shorts, and odd socks. One of these, Harry saw, was the black one Harry had removed from his own foot and tricked Mr Malfoy into giving Dobby, thereby setting Dobby free. The other was covered in pink and orange stripes.

"Dobby, what're you doing here?" Harry said in amazement.

"Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!" Dobby squealed excitedly. "Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, sir!

"Winky?" said Harry. "She's here too?"

"Yes, sir, yes!" said Dobby, and he seized Harry's hand and pulled him off into the kitchen between the four long wooden tables that stood there. Each of these tables, Harry noticed as he passed them, was positioned exactly beneath the four House tables above, in the Great Hall.

At least a hundred little elves were standing around the kitchen, beaming, bowing, and curtsying as Dobby led Harry past them. They were all wearing the same uniform: a tea towel stamped with the Hogwarts crest, and tied, as Winky's had been, like a toga.

Dobby stopped in front of the brick fireplace and pointed. "Winky, sir!" he said.

Winky was sitting on a stool by the fire. Unlike Dobby, she had obviously not foraged for clothes. She was wearing a neat little skirt and blouse with a matching blue hat, which had holes in it for her large ears. However, while every one of Dobby's strange collection of garments was so clean and well cared for that it looked brand-new, Winky had not taken care of her clothes at all.

"Hello, Winky," said Hermione.

Winky's lip quivered. Then she burst into tears, which spilt out of her great brown eyes and splashed down her front, just as they had done at the Quidditch World Cup.

"Oh dear," said Hermione. "Winky, don't cry, please don't..."

But Winky cried harder than ever. Dobby, on the other hand, beamed up at Harry.

"Would Harry Potter like a cup of tea?" he squeaked loudly, over Winky's sobs. "Er - yes please, but Tippy said the elves here weren't allowed to feed me," said Harry.

Dobby tugged on his lip, "technically Dobby is being paid to work at Hogywarts now but he is not bonded to a master, so he could be breaking the rules a bit sir if he wanted too..." He shuffled his feet.

"How long have you been here, Dobby?" Harry asked distracting Dobby as he served them tea.

"Only a week. Harry Potter, sir!" said Dobby happily.

"Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir. You see, sir, it is very difficult for a house-elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, sir, very difficult indeed -"

At this, Winky howled even harder, her squashed-tomato of a nose dribbling all down her front, though she made no effort to stem the flow.

"Dobby has travelled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work!" Dobby squeaked. "But Dobby hasn't found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying now!"

The house-elves all around the kitchen, who had been listening and watching with interest, all looked away at these words, as though Dobby had said something rude and embarrassing.

Hermione, however, said, "Good for you, Dobby!"

"Thank you, miss!" said Dobby, grinning toothily at her. "But most wizards doesn't want a house-elf who wants paying, miss. 'That's not the point of a house- elf,' they said, and they slammed the door in Dobby's face! Dobby likes work, but he wants to wear clothes and he wants to be paid. Harry Potter... Dobby likes being free!"

The Hogwarts house-elves had now started edging away from Dobby, as though he were carrying something contagious. Winky, however, remained where she was, though there was a definite increase in the volume of crying.

"And then, Harry Potter, Dobby goes to visit Winky, and finds out Winky has been freed to sir!" said Dobby delightedly.

At this, Winky flung herself forward off her stool and lay face-down on the flagged stone floor, beating her tiny fists upon it and positively screaming with misery. Hermione hastily dropped down to her knees beside her and tried to comfort her, but nothing she said made the slightest difference. Dobby continued with his story, shouting shrilly over Winky's screeches.

"And then Dobby had the idea. Harry Potter, sir! 'Why doesn't Dobby and Winky find work together?' Dobby says. 'Where is there enough work for two house-

elves?' says Winky. And Dobby thinks, and it comes to him, sir! Hogwarts! So Dobby and Winky came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor Dumbledore took us on!"

Dobby beamed very brightly, and happy tears welled in his eyes again.

"And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off a month!"

"Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends off," said Dobby, suddenly giving a little shiver, as though the prospect of so much leisure and riches were frightening, "but Dobby beat him down, miss. . . . Dobby likes freedom, miss, but he isn't wanting too much, miss, he likes work better."

"Good on you Dobby! I meant to ask you Dobby, Hermione told me about how house elves need to bond to someone in order to keep their magic, I was wondering if you're doing okay? Not being bound, it's not killing you?"

"Dobby is doing well Mr harry potter sir, Dobby will be needing to bond eventually but he is doing okay at Hogywarts, he is, it has lots of magic it has, Hogywarts is liking Dobby she is, she be helping me in the meantimes."

"I'm very glad Dobby I was worried," Harry said, bracing himself as Dobby flung himself at his middle and hugged him tightly again.

"Dobby could tell you about why Mr Potter sir is not being fed, but not heres, it is not being safe. There is ears"

"What, what are you...?" He trailed off, his head starting to hurt, "oh, I remember, oh ouch."

He moaned, "it's going again... don't... stop, please!"

"don't fight it Harry Potter sir. It's safer to forget," Dobby squeaked, patting his elbow.

"I can't it's important! I feel it's important I can't... can't figure it out."

His mind started to get a bit fuzzy... his head ached. What had he been saying... he tried to remember and falls with the pain of it.

"Trust Dobby Harry Potter sir. It's safer to forget sir. Trust Dobby to remember it for you's. Later Harry Potter sir Dobby will tell you."

"Gods it hurts! okay, Dobby" Harry all but sobbed.

He lets go, the pain builds then fades as if it had never been, "What am I doing here... What were you saying, Hermione?"

"Hmm?" Looking confused for a moment, "Oh we were visiting Dobby" she said, "and Winky."

"Ah of course," he said a little confused but dismissing it.

"And how much is Professor Dumbledore paying you, Winky?" Hermione asked kindly.

If she had thought this would cheer up Winky, she was wildly mistaken. Winky did stop crying, but she sat up glaring at Hermione through her massive brown eyes, her whole face sopping wet and suddenly furious.

"Winky is a disgraced elf, but Winky is not yet getting paid!" she squeaked. "Winky is not sunk so low as that! Winky is properly ashamed of being freed!"

"We is going now Harry Potter sir," Dobby said suddenly looking shifty.

"Why?" He asked suspiciously, "didn't we just get here?"

"No sir, we is going now sir, trust Dobby sir!"

His wording struck Harry as important, for some reason. He couldn't work out the significance, however.

"You's is going young sir and miss," Tippy came back, and helped Dobby herd the young Witch and Wizard towards the door. She paused when they were at the closed portrait hole, "you is kind sir, we is not forgetting it."

Harry frowned, feeling a bit hazy but said, "I don't... I'm not sure..." He winced, "But either way you deserve kindness and decency. We are not so different you and I."

The old elf beckoned Harry down to her level. He bent down and she gripped his ear in a firm bit gent grip and whispered "if Tippy was to be telling... Which Tippy is not!" She looked sternly at him and he nodded somewhat indulgently.

"Then Tippy would be saying young master Harry Potter," she looked resolutely at Dobby as she said that, despite still gripping Harry's ear, "Harry Potter is needing his own house elf. To be feeding him up and looking after him. If Tippy was telling, which Tippy is not..." She turned her head back to Harry and glared when he nodded earnestly, she continued back to Dobby, "then Tippy could be telling (but Tippy is not) that all the elves in Tea Towels is bonded. We is bonded to Hogywarts though Professor Whiskers sir. Well most of us. But Tippy cannot be telling sir. Cannot being telling Mr Harry Potter sir, that an elf bounded to him, could be helping him, sir, get around Professor Whiskers bad words sir. Tippy not being telling though, Tippy is a good elf," she continued slowly, in case he was a bit slow to catch on, still looking resolutely at Dobby. Dobby nodded hard, his bat-like ears flapping. Tippy turned back to Harry and raised a wizened eyebrow.

Thankfully Harry wasn't slow, '_the elves of Hogwarts couldn't help, the ones that were bound to Whiskers_,' he thought, nodding at her in silent acknowledgement of what she was saying. _'He needed the help of his own elf to avoid 'whiskers' manipulations, as only an elf could help against other elves who were being forced to comply. But all but Dobby and Winky were bound. And the Hogwarts elves could not talk to him, but could talk to other elves.'_

"Thank you Tippy."

"You is not thanking Tippy, Sir and Miss, Tippy is be saying nothing, to you sir," the elf said sternly before finally letting go of his ear and adding, "Tippy is very sorry that we is not being able to help you. We is very sorry."

"Its okay Tippy I understand. I'm sorry your orders disagree with your desires and morals, it not fair on you. One last thing Tippy, could you say where could I find a house elf and how to bond with one?" Harry asked

"Winky needs a family Harry Potter sir," a voice squeaked on his left.

"Dobby?"

"No sir, Dobby is sorry sir, but Dobby likes being free too much sir. Dobby could work for Harry Potter sir, but he does not want to bond yet sir, so he could not keep Harry Potter sir safe, but Winky could sir. But not here sir, ears sir," he said grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the kitchens, with a worried and concerned Hermione behind them.

...

Please don't be disheartened by the Elves inability to help Harry. I'm not bashing on them. Everything happens for a reason ;P

Hope you enjoyed it! It took ages to get it just so!

Let me know what you think.


	5. Chapter 5 Secrets Revealed

**Notes at the end**(mostly)**:**

For those of you who reviewed, thank you, I appreciate it.

Included some trigger warnings at the end if you would like them.

On that note, Happy reading.

...

Dobby stopped just at the end of the hallway and pulled them aside behind at a pastry.

"You is going to the seventh floor Harry Potter Sir. To the Come and Go Room, sir, or the Room of Requirement!"

"Why? What is it?" said Harry curiously.

"Because it is a room that a person can only enter," said Dobby seriously, "when they have real need of it. Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker's needs. Dobby has used it, sir," said the elf, dropping his voice and looking guilty, "when Winky has been very drunk. We is hiding her in the Room of Requirement and we is founding antidotes to Butterbeer there, and a nice elf-sized bed for while she is sleeping it off, sir. . . . And Dobby knows Mr Filch has found extra cleaning materials there when he has run short, sir. It is the most amazing room, sir. We be safe there sir."

"How many people know about it?" said Harry.

"Very few, sir. Mostly people stumbles across it when they needs it, sir, but often they never finds it again, for they do not know that it is always there waiting to be called into service, sir."

"Brilliant where is it on the Seventh floor?" Harry asked.

"Its the blank wall opposite the tapestry of the dancing trolls-"

"The one with Barnibus the Barmey teaching them Ballet?" Asked Hermione.

Dobby nodded. Walk past three times thinking of a safe place, and go through the door that appears. We is talking there sir, don't be seen." The elf finished with a pop.

"Come on," Harry said, pulling out his Invisibility Cloak from his pocket.

"When did you start carrying that everywhere?" Hermione said checking it covered both their feet.

"After the goblet, figured it may be safer," Harry said and they left the tapestry and went up to the seventh floor.

"His one?" Harry asked quietly, after making sure the corridor was empty.

Hermione nodded, "I think so."

They were interrupted by a pop, and they both jumped as Dobby appeared.

"Harry Potter sir?" He whispered.

Harry poked his toe out from under the cloak and wiggled it while a moth-eaten troll paused in his relentless clubbing of the would-be ballet teacher to watch.

Dobby giggled, nodded and beckoned them to follow him, as he walked back and forth turning sharply at the window just beyond the blank stretch of wall, then at the man-size vase on its other side.

A small highly polished door had appeared in the wall. Harry and Hermione looked at it slightly wary. Dobby seized the brass handle, pulled open the door and went through it, beckoned them to follow. When they approached, it wiggled, grew a bit taller so as to let them in, before swinging shut behind them.

It was a small and cosy room, lit with flickering torches like those that illuminated the dungeons eight floors below. There was a large fire on one side, crackling merrily surrounded by three armchairs; two wizard sized ones, and on elf sized one for Dobby.

The walls were lined with wooden bookcases, and instead of chairs, there were a few large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far the adjacent wall carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors, and a small Foe-Glass.

"These will be good for studying on," Harry said, enthusiastically, prodding one of the cushions with his foot, "we can spread our books out properly instead of cramming them all onto a small table.

"And just look at these books!" said Hermione excitedly, running a finger along the spines of the large leather-bound tomes. "A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions... The Dark Arts Outsmarted... Self-Defensive Spellwork... Advanced Defence Against the Dark arts... Healer's Helpmate...wow..." She looked around at Harry, her face glowing, "Harry, this is wonderful, there's everything we need here!"

"A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration... Advanced Potion-Making..." Harry read out, "Animagus and Metimorphmagus an introduction...Protection Charm Your Mind: A Practical Guide to Counter Legilimensy oh and some on the Triwizard history as well, look! Triwizard Tragedies, oh and the complete standard book of spells set, and all of the Muggleborn introduction books! Everything we need for both the basics and to help us work on the more advanced things!"

"Wow, Guide to Advanced Occlumency, just what I was struggling to find earlier...The decline of Pagan Magic could be interesting, Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes, maybe I may actually stand a chance in this thing! Magical Mediterranean Water-Plants and Their Properties, don't know how that will help but you never know, Where There's a Wand, There's a Way, definitely! And A Legal Compendium. This thing may actually be survivable with all of these books! Look Curses and Counter-Curses, I wanted to get that one on my first trip to Diagon Ally!" Harry exclaimed, pulling it off the shelf, "Hagrid wouldn't let me,"

"Oh Harry, this is brilliant, we stand a chance with all of this! Look Powers You Never Knew You Had and What To Do With Them Now You've Wised Up... maybe that could have something useful." Hermione exclaimed.

"Harry Potter sir," cut in Dobby beckoning, "its time for you to remember."

"Dobby?" Harry asked going over and sitting in one of the squashy armchairs.

"We is safe from eyes and ears Harry Potter sir. Bad things are happening sir, Dobby only just found out sir. People plotting no good things for Harry Potter sir. They be ordering the house elves to do things, sir. Things that won't help you, sir."

"Dobby I don't..." He trailed off his head starting to ache.

"We have been ordered not to tell you, not to help you, sir, Hogywarts elves are devastated, it goes against everything we believe but we is ordered. We have to obey. But if you had your own elf, they would be bonded to you sir and could help you, sir. You is needing it, sir. And we is needing a new master to sir!" Dobby babbled.

"Dobby..." Hermione started, "are you saying, someone, is ordering you all around, to use you for the plots to control and hurt Harry?"

"And the only way you can help get around it is if, I have my own bonded elf?" Harry asked.

Dobby nodded miserably.

"Do you want or need to bond Dobby? I would bond with you if you need it? If you wanted it. You are the first elf I ever met and you are my friend." Harry said earnestly, "if you think its what's necessary I believe you."

Dobby let out a wail, "Harry Potter sir, is too kind, too kind to poor Dobby! But Dobby can't sir, Dobby wants too, but Dobby can't sir, he is not ready."

"That's okay Dobby, I understand, your last master was horrible, I understand wanting to be free and enjoy it as long as you can. But Dobby if you need ever decide that's what you want, or need, I promise to treat you fairly and kindly and to let you go whenever you want, just say the word, your my friend first Dobby."

Dobby flung himself at Harry's knees and sobbed, mumbling incoherently.

"Harry just pet him on the back and water for it to pass.

"One day Harry Potter sir, Dobby would love to be your Elf sir, but Dobby is not ready. But sir..." He trailed off.

"What is it Dobby?" Asked Hermione kindly.

"Harry Potter needs and elf sir, and Winky needs a family, she won't bond to Hogywarts as she wants a family again, to look after." Dobby said twisting his fingers, "Winky needs help, sir. She is not coping with being free."

"If that's what she wants Dobby, then of course. I want you lot happy."

"but it's complicated sir. She still has to keep promises and ties to how old master, he didn't free her properly, just mostly sir. I was freed properly from my old master, but she wasn't she was freed, with the intent for her to still be bound to keep his secrets, so she can't give it up but she needs a new master so could you take her and look after her and let her look after you but let her keep her old secrets sir" Dobby said all at once, looking very worried.

"That doesn't sound fair on her, but of course she can keep her old masters' secrets, their not my business," Harry said.

Dobby beamed at him, but then said, "but sir.. Dobby isn't sure sir, but what if they be hurting Harry Potter sir?"

"Well what if its like what Tippy said, maybe she could tell you, or tell you what you need to keep me safe, (I could employ you Dobby if you wanted me. Then you could work for me if you wanted, I'd love to have you, and you could still be free, like you deserve!) And then I wouldn't be at risk from her secrets, and she could still keep them."

"Really Harry Potter sir! You would trust Dobby with that?" Dobby asked wide eyes.

"Of course, You've proved time over that you can keep me safe even if you can't tell me what it is. Admittedly it hurt sometimes, but you tried so hard, with the constraints you had, and this time you'll be able to explain why a bit, just promise not to try and send me home. I don't have one."

"Dobby will sir! Dobby will!" He squeaked, his big eyes pooling, "Dobby is getting Winky, sir!"

"I think you did a very nice thing, Harry," Hermione said

"I like Dobby, and if Winky needs a master to be healthy, and I can do that and make sure she's not being abused I will," Harry said as Dobby popped into the room with a very drunk and teary Winky.

"Winky sir!" Dobby said.

"Winky do you want another family?" He asked, nearing on the floor next to her.

She hickuped, "Winky is a discharged elf. My poor Mr Crouch, what is he doing without Winky? He is needing me, he is needing my help! I is looking after the Crouches all my life, and my mother is doing it before me, and my grandmother is doing it before her... oh what is they saying if they knew Winky was freed? Oh the shame, the shame!" She started sobbing again in a ball on the floor.

Hermione's eyes welled and Harry patted her on the knee and said to Winky, "I'm sorry this has happened to you Winky, you didn't deserve it. And while I don't know the whole situation, I don't think you deserved dismissal as you were obviously a dedicated and good House-elf. But he did free you, and while he may still need you, you have been dismissed. It is harsh but it's the truth. I'm sorry about it, but while I cannot help you get your job back I can offer you another one. Dobby tells me you want a family, that's why you won't work for Hogwarts, you want to look after someone. As you did with Crouch. I can offer you a safe place to work, someone to look after, and I won't treat you badly, I promise. If you will have me, I would bond with you Winky." He said earnestly.

Winky stopped sobbing, and looked up, "you is wanting Winky?" She hiccuped, "even though Winky is a bad elf?"

"I don't think you're a bad elf, and I do want you if you'll have me?" He said biting his lip.

She hiccuped, "I is wanting a family, but I is having one, but they is not wanting Winky," she let out a sob, "they is not coming back for Winky is they?" She asked.

"I don't think so no, but I know what that's like, my family don't want me either." He said shakily

"You is needing Winky, sir?" She asked seeming a little less distraught.

He hesitated, but the desperate look in her eyes made him tell the truth, "yes Winky I need you. I don't like admitting my weaknesses, but I do need you Winky, I need the help only a house elf can provide, and I'm not remembering things, people are trying to kill me and make my life difficult and I'm not safe, and its scary and I desperately need someone on my side to help me. I'm sorry I'm just one person, not a big happy family like you deserve, and I'm sorry I have so many problems and issues, but I really need your help if you'll have me. You to Dobby, if you want to work for me, I would be honoured to have you. Both of you." He finished his breath coming in short gasps.

Winky put her hands on his knees and looked him in the eye sternly, "you is taking a deep breath Young Master Harry sir, you is having Winky now. You is not needing to panic."

He let out a shuddering breath, "thank you, thank you."

Hermione slipped from her chair and cautiously took his hand. When he didn't jump, startled, she squeezed it reassuringly, "you not alone, Harry, you have us, me and Winky and-"

"-Dobby too sir! Dobby will work for you, sir!" Dobby squeaked jumping up and down.

"Thanks, guys i... that means a lot, I don't think I can do it on my own," Harry said.

"Winky must be saying sir, Winky... Winky kept secrets for her old master, Winky is freed, but Winky is still bound to keep them, and Winky knows things, sir, Winky knows they is dangerous secrets, but Winky can't tell though," Her eyes filled and she went to bash her head on the wall, but he grabbed her.

"No! You will not punish yourself, you will not hurt yourself. My elves do not self punish, and they do not harm themselves, or each other in self-punishment!" He added remembering how devious Dobby could be if he wanted to, "Your important, you are worth so much, you are worth being looked after and looking after yourself. Which means getting enough sleep, getting enough food and nourishment as well, as per your needs, I don't know that much about House-elves yet, but you will treat yourself well, it's important to me. So no punishment. If you really think you need punishment, come to me, we can talk about it, and work out something fair that we both agree on."

Their eyes welled and he was almost knocked over under the force of two House-elves hugging the life out of him.

"Winky is bound by Old Masters' promises and bound despite being free. Old Master didn't do it properly just the cloths with the intent of Winky being bound to keep his secrets still. It can't be broken yet, it takes a year to wear off sometimes longer depending on things, or if... if he dies" she let out another sob, "They is having bad things planned, but Winky can't warn you, sir!"

"Can you tell Dobby? You old master didn't tell you to keep it from House-elves, did he? Can you tell Dobby how to help keep me safe from whatever Crouch is plotting?" Harry asked carefully.

"Winky tipped her head to the side, "Winky things so... if Dobby promised not to tell, we is getting around it maybes."

"That sound like a plan. What do you think?" He asked looking from Dobby to Winky who eyed each other.

"Dobby is working for Mr Harry Potter sir, now." Dobby squeaked.

"How much is the headmaster paying you Dobby, we should sit down and work out an agreement," Harry said.

"Later sir," Dobby said as Winky spoke up.

"Winky is bonding with you Young master Harry, Winky will be having you if you will be having her." She squeaked.

"I will-" he started intending on asking how one bonded to a House-elf when a wave of magic travelled up winks hand and into his own.

"Oh!" He said understanding, "oh."

Her magic was warm, like what he imagined a loving hug would be like, and he thought that even if they were not near each other he would always be distantly aware of where she was vaguely in the back of his awareness.

"Young master Harry sir!" Winky exclaimed eyes wide! "You is not well! And there is so much Winky can now be telling you! Winky be keeping you safe from other elf magic!" She clicked her fingers and he felt something tingling wash over him. He shuddered, it was like water being blown off him.

"You is needing to remember now Harry Potter sir," Dobby added in, "in the kitchens you are forgetting, Dobby promised he would remember for you, and remind you Harry Potter sir!"

Harry and Hermione winced, couching their heads suddenly, their minds foggy.

"Winky is doing it, Young Master Harry sir, she being making you remember and it not hurt sir" she squeaked.

He winched at the pitch, "Hermione to please, Hermione too."

Winky touched a finger to Harry's head, and Harry felt something funny in his mind. Like something was putting a sieve through his thoughts it to filter out the silt. Some of the fog was clearing. He remembers, it hurts. Winked swayed briefly.

He remembered the food disappearing, trying to ask about it, house elves crying as they had to turn him away, sobbing apologies. He remembered trying to talk about it, but it was slipping away, he remembered forgetting in the kitchens earlier that day.

"Young master remembers now. Yous sleep now, sir"

Gods, he's tired.

"You is safe now, Winky be looking after you." She squeaked, as she and Dobby levitated them onto beds that hadn't been there a moment ago.

he mumbling out a thank you, Winky patted his hand, before he couldn't stay awake any longer. The last thing he remembered before he fell asleep was, 'Thanks Hogwarts,' and a warm feeling in return.

**Notes:**

For those of you who reviewed, thank you, I really appreciate it.

Some Trigger Warnings:  
More talk of adults being irresponsible asses. (Well its implied that they are anyway)  
House-elf self-punishment  
House-elf masters who are ass's (controlling)  
Lack of self worth (everone)  
Brief mention of food being withheld


	6. Chapter 6 A Plan

Some trigger warnings at the end.

This one's a big one, took me all day.

Thanks for all your kind reviews, I appreciate it!  
Hope you enjoy. Happy Reading ?

...

Harry woke to soft if not high pitched voices.

"Tippy is so grateful to Dobby and Winky! Tippy and all the other elves were starting to disappear that we would never be able to help Young Master Harry Potter. Not with Whiskers forbidding it so, and ordering such horrid things. Whisker's is a bad, bad man."

"You should not be insulting your master, Tippy!" Winky squeaked.

"Whiskers doesn't care what we call him, as long as we is obeying and keeping up his image of kindly grandfather!"

Winky made a huffing noise, and Tippy continued, "Whiskers it telling us back in first-year after Madam Poppy be telling us what to feed young master. She is saying, small bland meals, only little bits, ass he's been sick for so long, slowly build him up. But then Whiskers finds out and says, no! Just small bland meals, he is to be hungry and weak, and not healthy. No sweets, nothing not strictly lean and healthy, nothing fatty or with sugar, no desert not even fruit salad for dessert, no juice, no drinks other than water. He needs Harry Potter weak and pliable!" Tippy let out a sob, "and we is realising Hogywarts is not what it once was! It is not so much the safe Haven for House-elves that Mistress Helga made it to be!"

"Don't worry, I hated it too, it was like being back at the Dursleys except at least here I got fed a bit. I don't blame you though. I'd free you all, and take you on myself if I could," Harry croaked sitting up, "lots of dangerous things are going on here, in the supposedly safest place in Brittain. He's meant to be the greatest wizard alive, but he'd done some questionable things, and by the sounds of it my suspicion of him not having my best interests at heart seem to be true. I'm mad, or I will be when I'm not so tired, but not at you"

Tippy squeaked and made to pop out but Harry said, "wait, please wait!"

Tippy looked at him, her eyes narrowed despite there wetness.

"I wanted to thank you, all of you, for doing your best, an to remind you it's not your fault, none of you." He said fervently.

Tippy's eyes grew as wide as saucers and she popped away.

"Did I offend her?" He asked

"No sir," Dobby said, climbing up onto the end of Harry's bed, "we is getting overwhelmed by wizard kindness some times sir, we is not used to it, sir. She is pleased but overwhelmed, so she is going back to work, sir."

"What time is it anyway?" He asked as Hermione stretched in the bed next to him and rolled over, pulling her pillow over her head.

"Nearly curfew sir, but you is having time." Winky said, "and don't you worry, young Master Harry Potter sir, we is looking after you now. You is not being hungry or starved again sir."

He slumped in relief, "thank you... just... Thank you. And you know you can just call me Harry right?" He said

"No so, we can't sir." She said shaking her head and looking horrified.

"Why?" He asked incredulously, "it's my name. If we are bonded we're kinda like family right? Or at least friends. I'd like to consider you friends, even if I don't know you that well yet Winky."

"Winky wants family too sir, but it's not right sir. You is kind, you is family, but you is still Young Master Harry sir." Winky said sternly.

"Erm if that's what you want, okay," he said not quite understanding but willing to accept it.

Winky nodded.

"Right, Now what?" He asked.

"Now you be clothing Winky sir, with a uniform sir." She said.

"Can you dress like the Hogwarts elves? So no-one knows your not working for Hogwarts, I don't want anyone knowing you work for me instead, not because I'm ashamed but I don't want to upset anyone until I know the lay of the land, so to say."

Winky nodded thoughtfully. "Winky is just not telling Whiskers we is finding other work. I is asking Tippy for Hogwarts Tea Towel." She popped away and reappeared a moment later in a neatly pressed Hogwarts tea bowl. She looked much happier and healthier already.

"Anything else we need to do to bond or is that it?"

"Nothing, sir, that's it. Though your magic feels funny, not moving right Winky be thinking on it."

"What?!" He exclaimed!

"Winky be thinking on it young master, Winky thinks on it and get back to you sir," she popped away.

"Dobby? What about you?" He asked after a long moment.

"Dobby is getting a Galleon a week sir, and a day off per month," he said with a grin.

"I can match that if you want Dobby," Harry said, "at least I think I can, I hope Gringotts replies soon... oh... I forgot," he trailed off.

Pop! "Winky can be taking it, sir!" She squeaked clicking her fingers to get the letter out of the pocket of his robes before popping away again.

"Thank Winky," he murmured in belated surprise.

"Well Dobby, would you like to work for me?" He asked.

"Yes, Mr Harry Potter sir! Yes!" He squeaked, shaking harries hand so hard, his whole arm moved.

"A Galleon a week then, and a day off per month. It's going to be a pleasure working for you. But like I said before, no punishment." He said sternly.

Dobby nodded as Hermione say up.

"Who ran me over?" She mumbled darkly.

"Winky fixed whatever made us keep forgetting. Do you remember?" Harry asked concerned.

Hermione was quiet for a bit, then "yes. I do. I remember our conversations. I remember dismissing your concerns about food being weird in the hall. I remember that despite the fact it was weird and that I wouldn't have dismissed it, I remember doing so, that was odd. I remember the fact that every time I noticed it, it would somehow slip my mind." She stopped for a moment.

"I don't think it was an Obliviate though," Harry said.

"No, maybe a Confundus and/or some kind of compulsion spell or potion. We'll have to look into it and make sure it doesn't happen again."

"I think we should look into mind magic, maybe that can help us defend ourselves," Harry suggested.

"Where did you hear about that?" She asked incredulously, "it's not very common."

"I've wondered before if Snape could read minds or Dumbledore. Snape seems to just know things, and Dumbledore's eyes seem to go right through you, especially when they twinkle. So I looked it up in the library. Legilimancy is mind reading, (well not technically, but it's basically mind reading) and Occlumency is defending and protecting the mind. There are some books here. I think we should give it a go. I don't want anyone in my head." He said with a shudder.

"Your right harry. I wonder if we can borrow books from the room..." She pondered.

"Yes Harry Potter's Grangy, you can, but you is needing to take them back after, they is being borrowed from elsewhere in the castle," Dobby said.

"Gods I still feel a bit muddled, and there's so much still to figure out," Harry said suddenly getting up and pacing.

"I know," Hermione said moving to the armchairs in front of the fire.

"Tea Sir and Miss," Winky said popping back in, with two steaming mugs, "Ginkgo Biloba Tea, for mental clarity, to wash away the last of the fuzzy-head magics."

"Oh it smells brilliant, thanks Winky," Harry said taking a deep breath and feeling the last of the fogginess fade away as he sipped it.

"We need to finish out conversation from this morning, on the food in the hall, we need to figure out who and why, and how to counteract it without drawing more double," started Hermione.

"We need to plan on getting me healthy, I want to talk about why it wasn't safe in the kitchens and figure out where is safe and where isn't, the walls seem to have ears, I think it's the portraits reporting back, and I want to set out a plan for the tournament and work on figuring out who did it and how to counteract whatever they have planned for me," Harry continued,

"And we need to research the tournament, the contract requirements and the tasks so you can prepare for them. We should also look into any loopholes we can exploit." Added Hermione.

"Agreed"

"Well continuing from this morning," she started pulling out a quill and parchment, "that explains why we always let it go. We were magicked in some way to constantly dismiss it. something made us leave it alone, and push it to the back of our minds."

"Why would he bother though," Harry asked, "we know from the House-elves it was Dumbledore, but why? Was it really all for control of me?"

"What does he want though, he wants me to be a certain way, act in a certain way study certain things, probably wants me ignorant and isolated too, judging by my lack of preparation from the Wizarding world and continual imprisonment with my relatives. What does he want?" He started pacing again.

"There must be something he knows that we don't. Something about you.

"Maybe it's also got to do with Voldemort. He never did tell me why Voldemort came after my parents, though... now I think about it. Mum was protecting me. He was after me wasn't he. Not them. And that reason is probably why Dumbledore's wants to control me. I don't know what it is, but it's important to him for his goals. Whatever they are. I wonder what he wants though" he persisted.

"I don't know Harry. Why use food and your health? Why does he want you in such poor health it doesn't make sense." Hermione said, "why not just use potions and spells to control you. Why resort to these other psychological tactics.."

"Potions and spells that's a good point. I wonder if he has used them. We'll need to research it and figure out how to tell, and then undo them if they are there. I wonder if that's why I forgot about reading I read all my textbooks before I came to Hogwarts. I read them all, cover to cover. I may have only understood half of it but I read it went over and tried my best to remember it and I should've known the answer to Snape questions. It was odd that suddenly I'd forgotten it." He pointed out.

"We'll have to look into magical forms of manipulation," Hermione said, adding it to her list.

"He's been controlling me for too long. He sent me to the Dursleys, never checked once, always send me back, despite me getting down on my knees and begging for anywhere else. He chose my classes. I'd asked McGonagall for all of them when she said no, I asked for runes and creatures, but McGonagall said Dumbledore had insisted on divination, and run runes from my schedule."

"So food was just another way to do that, another aspect of your life to control, and use over you," Hermione said, "keeping you hungry will stunt your development, magical and physical. It will keep you weak, impair your thinking and learning. It's almost as if he's setting you up to fail. Whatever it is he wants you to fail at..."

"and it was so nice it was to be able to eat anything at all, compared to the Dursleys that I didn't even pay too much attention to being hungry all the time even here. At least here I didn't have to wonder if I get a meal every day. I knew I would, just not much. I guess it made me see him and the Wizarding world as this wonderful place, and as my saviour. It would make me trust him. It did, I would have followed him everywhere."

"What changed?"

"I..." Harry stopped, "I showed him proof that it wasn't safe at the Dursleys, he said I must be exaggerating and sent me back."

"Oh Harry," she said but restrained herself from hugging him, "I don't know why he suddenly started controlling your food though, it was fine till Halloween in our first-year..." She wondered.

"I... I think he didn't want a fat saviour. He didn't want a fat lazy kid," he spat, his disgust at the headmaster evident in his voice, "He spies on us, with the portraits I think. I joked once to Ron in front of the portrait hole, about how much I loved being able to eat chocolate here. How I could eat whatever I wanted and not have to focus on if I'd get food tomorrow. I could eat lots of vegetables and fruit here as well as chocolate, all things I'd never had before, never been allowed before. The Dursleys wouldn't let me have anything 'too good for the freak.' I'd joked... I'd joke that I'd end up as big as a house with so many good foods and no-one yelling at me." He finished self deprecatingly.

"So maybe... So maybe he controlled my diet, subtly. Never in person, probably didn't want to do the dirty work and didn't want to risk dirtying his image. Not when he had hundreds on practically invisible helpers bound to his every whim. So he starved me, not obviously, but just enough to leave me hungry more often than not without realising it. Not like the Dursleys, it wouldn't do to leave me preferring it there over here. No. Just enough to make me weak and pliable. So that I couldn't think straight more often than not, making me more impulsive. He did always offer me lemon drips and sweets in his office, so I'd associate him with good things, along with Hagrid having fed and rescued me from the Dursleys on his behalf. He wanted me to depend on him, trusting and idolising him."

Harry plopped down on his armchair at the end of his rant, like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Harry?" Hermione asked gently.

"I'm so tired of being hungry all the time and tired all the time. I want... I want to be able to feel full at the end of a meal for a change. Gods even just once. So I know what it's like to have enough to ear. So I know what it's like to go to sleep on a full stomach not a painfully empty one or one so unused to food I was queasy. I want to want to be able to have a butterbeer and chocolate frogs whenever I want. I want to try treacle tart and have seconds of lasagna and that lamb stew you love. It smells divine, I've never been aloud spicy food. I want to be able to have pancakes for breakfast every once in a while like normal kids. Ron had pancakes, bacon and waffles every Sunday morning. I've never been allowed that. Only toast and I'm sick of toast. and Cornflakes I hate Cornflakes. I want to be able to have a glass of milk for breakfast. Dudley did all the time. Even the first years here get it, never me though."

"We'll sort it out," Hermione consoled, "with Winky and Dobby on your side, they can make sure you're fed. Probably in such a way that no-one will even know anything changed. They are brilliant."

Hermione carefully took his hand. Even though he knew she was there he still flinched at the contact but allowed it anyway. He didn't always like it much but she meant well, and it made her feel better.

"I'm Scared," he admitted quietly, "scared I'm not going to live to grow up. To be free. Gods I'm never going to be free! I'm so scared all the time. What's the point? What's the point of trying hard in school and fighting for a future when I don't have one. Everyone is trying to kill, use and abuse me. I don't have a future. So what's the point in trying? I'm scared... scared of never having freedom, scared of having no control over my life. But I'm also scared that if I do ever manage to be free of these chains that I don't know what to do with it. I'm so tired. So tired! I'm tired of constantly being punished for existing. I didn't ask for it. I didn't ask to be born. Gods, Hermione, it's not my fault. Please! It's not my fault I exist," he moaned, "I half want to run away and never come back. Half want to burn all my bridges because I only really have myself. There's never been anyone else. I've never been safe or loved or been able to trust, I'm too broken, and what's the point? What's the point, Hermione? What's the point of trying any more? It's never enough and Gods I've had enough."

"Oh Harry," she cried, sobbing now, "I'm going to hug you now," she warned him, and you're going to hug me back okay?" He nodded but still jumped when she touched him, but he allowed it and pressed his face into her shoulder as Hermione sobbed into his.

"it will be alright Harry, it will be already," she repeated, over and over like a mantra as she clung on to him securely. Her voice muffled in his shoulder, and he wondered if she was saying it to reassure herself, or him.

"It will be okay Harry and if it's not okay, it's not the end yet. That's not good really, but it's something."

He pulled away after a moment and accepted a handkerchief from Winky who had reappeared with a tray.

He passed it to Hermione who tipped her eyes and blew her nose. Harry took another sip of his still hot cup of tea, holding it in both ends under his chin. Inhaling its subtle scent. Enjoying its comforting warmth.

"You is eating now, Young Master Harry sir," Winky said sternly to him, putting the tray on his lap. "You is not having enough at dinner sir."

Harry snorted in derision and took the bowl from her. It was steaming and smelling mildly of spices he didn't recognise. He grinned, he'd never been allowed to have it before, "thanks Winky."

"You is taking potions too sir!" She said, holding out a spoon filled with that same green and brown potion Madam Pomfrey had given him back in his first-year.

He swallowed it, and Hermione giggled wetly when he made a face at its foul taste.

He took a mouthful of stew and moaned.

"this is brilliant!" he exclaimed, hand over his mouth.

"Harry!" Hermione teased, "eat then talk."

"Nah, it's too good," he stopped to swallow then said, "I've never had anything like this before. You're a god among elves Winky"

The elf went scarlet but beamed before popping away.

"We should plan. It will help." He said while he ate.

"yeah..." Hermione echoed, but they sat in silence for a time, listening to the crackle of the fire.

"We need to find out what the contract says I think," Harry said.

"I don't know how we can research the tournament contract, or the rules and loopholes I looked in the library already it's only past tournaments and not the legal bits," she said sounding a bit lost.

"s'okay, I asked Bill he might know. If not maybe we can write to the ministry or something. I'm sure you can think of some sort of brilliant way to word it so they do what you want. Though it may draw attention."

"I can't believe they would let you compete in a binding magical contract, and be bound, without your consent. That's nuts. And then to deny you the contract you were bound too, that would be wrong on even more levels, so I'm sure we can get a copy somewhere." Hermione said

"You have way more faith in the Wizarding world than I do, Hermione."

"I know," she sighed, fiddling with the edge of her parchment.

They sat in silence for a moment while Harry slowly worked his way through his stew.

"I know it feels like a lot now Harry, but let's just go over what we have to do and make an action plan, even if it's just where to start. We'll feel a bit better with a plan," Hermione said.

Harry nodded around his spoon. Swallowing he said, "Your right. Winky, Dobby, do you want to join us? Your input would be appreciated."

There was a pop, and Dobby and Winky joined them again. A second elf sized armchair had appeared at some point, and they sat.

"So we have food and nutrition sorted," Harry started.

"Winky and Dobby be sorting you out sir, we is looking after you!" Winky squeaked with confidence.

"Thanks, that's good. I've started running. That should help too, both my stamina and spell casting but also in getting fit and healthy. I need to put some strength into my muscles or lack thereof.

Oh really? You started running?" Hermione cut in.

"Yeah, round the lake. It's refreshing and relaxing as it is hard and exhausting. It gives me time to think, but also not too much time, as I need to concentrate on not keeling over," Harry snorted.

"Can I come?"

"Sure, portrait hole at six, we can shower and change in the quidditch locker rooms

"thats early but it sounds good. Are we even allowed out that early?" She asked.

"Dunno got the cloak though."

"True," she agreed, "Winky, you mentioned Harry's magic was all funny. What did you mean?"

"Winky isn't knowing, it felt different from Master Barty and young Master Barty. But Winky be asking one of the elder Elves. They is saying that illness and bindings can be affecting flow of magic. You is needing a healer. But not Madam Poppy, she is covered in the same magic that made yous forget. So she can't be trusted either, not safe" Winky explained.

"Goblins at Gringotts may help, old master had to go there once, after a bad box got him," Dobby said, a sly smile on his face at the memory.

"The soonest we can sneak out is a Hogsmeade Weekend, and we just had one, if the next ones not before Christmas then we'll have to go over the Christmas holidays," Hermione said, "can we wait that long?"

"Winky thinks so,"

"Until we find out where is safe," Harry started starting to feel a bit more in control now they were working on a plan. "Let's meet here to study. Maybe sometimes we could have meals here if Winky and Dobby don't mind, and it doesn't make extra work for them? We know it's safe here, from being overheard and we can discuss, plan and practice safely."

"I agree, I'll add concealment Charmes and privacy wards to our list of things to do."

"It be no troubles at all Sir and Miss," Winky said clapping her hands in excitement.

"Now after all this, I think we should definitely look into manipulating of the mind and methods of manipulating and controlling people. Magical means. I'm sure there's a book here. I'll take with me and read up on it. You take one of the mind magic ones and read it. Then we can share tomorrow. We'll get more done that way," Hermione said scribbling down notes on the parchment.

"We know Dumbledore's has been controlling you," she continued, "so we need to make sure we don't let on and if he is a mind reader, we probably need to subtly avoid him (and snape) or just not look them in the eye. It's always been said that the eyes are the window to the soul."

"Can you two not tell him your employment has changed?" Harry asked, "it's not that we regret it, or that we are ashamed and want to hide it, but if people knew then it would draw attention I don't know if we can afford." Harry said.

The elves thought about it a moment and nodded, "Tippy be knowing though. She be Head-elf, sir." Dobby said.

"Would she be telling anyone?" Harry asked.

"Dobby doesn't think so, sir, but I could ask her not to. Maybe that be enough? She likes you. She feels bad still." Dobby said.

"Right then! We'll work on morning runs, studying here when we can, and I'll look up controlling magics and their counters. Harry will look up mind magic, and we'll both work on tournament history to try and predict the tasks and how to prepare. We also need to work on a study schedule I should think so we can get you caught up with all the Muggleborn introduction texts. I'll draw one up for you later If you like." Hermione offered.

"Please, I'd appreciate it, there's just so much to do. Let me just spell the list, so no-one can read it." Harry said showing her the spell Bill had shown him for letters.

"Neat! No problem. We should probably head back now, it's almost curfew."

They slipped under the clock with their books. Winky and Dobby popping away to the kitchens while Harry and Hermione went back to Gryffindor tower.

"And Harry?" Hermione paused later, on the bottom step to the girl's staircase, "it wouldn't matter."

He raised an eyebrow in question.

"It would matter if you were fat, or skinny. As long as you're happy and healthy, I would care. And you should either. It does not matter what the rest of the world thinks. All that matters is your opinion and if you're happy. Screw what _he_ says, screw everyone. As long as your happy Harry, that's what matters. So don't worry about it. Just be happy and healthy. That's the goal I think. So you could get tattoos all over your face, or grow your hair and dye it pink or anything really. It does matter because you're my best friend. And you're a good person. Furthermore, I don't care what package you come in. It's your heart that I value. It should not matter what we look like, or if we are pretty or attractive or not, not when it should be our character that is seen." She said looking at him earnestly.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said taking her hand and giving it a squeeze, "I... I agree. Thank you. I'll see you in the morning. 6 o'clock okay?"

She nodded and went up to the stairs to the left, and he went up to the right.

**NOTES:**

Trigger Warnings:

Emotional meltdown.

Harry gets very upset and spirals a bit. Though I guess it could be interpreted as him being suicidal (he's okay though and its short)

Adults being manipulative assholes (again, still)

Boded image (and unspoken insecurity)

Okay so, you could interpret some little bits as fat shaming. BUT thats not the intention. (Harry is sarcastically mocking the Wizarding world and Dulbledore for the opinions he things they would have, and how they would judge him if he got fat. He's angry and venting and pissed off at people, (again, though rightly so)

I know weight is a sensitive topic, not trying to shame or disrespect (that goes for this whole work, harry's been so physically less then healthy for so long, its going to come up again) I like discussing the things we as a society don't talk about enough, but I try and always be considerate and respectful (of at least give you the heads up when I'm not.

(*smiles sheepishly, gets off soap box*)

Thanks for you patience and understanding, I appreciate it.

Happy reading!


	7. Chapter 7 Shunned

THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN RE-WRITTEN!

I got part way though writing Chapter 8&9 and realised I'd left holes and forgotten things. So I have had to re-write it. Sorry folks.

I'll get the next one posted hopeful tomorrow or the next day. Life's been kinda nuts.

It's been a long week, please be kind. No flames, don't like don't read.

Enjoy

(See the end of the chapter for a few extra notes.)

Harry woke bright eyed and wide awake, as usual. Hermione was less awake, blearily rubbing sleep out of her eyes as she joined Harry under the cloak.

The Fat lady was fast asleep in her frame when they crept out of the portrait hole and down through the castle. It was dark out, freezing but the air was blessedly still. Harry shed the cloak as soon as they got near the lake folded it up and put it in his pocket. They broke into a run immediately to keep warm, their breath clouding in front of them.

"Gods, I don't know why I thought this was a good idea," Harry huffed some time later.

Hermione snorted, equally puffed, "because you're an awful person, that is a glutton for punishment, and had to drag me into it too!"

"you asked to join me!" he puffed back with a half laugh.

"True... it's good for us, or so we're told. At least the cold is encouraging us to keep moving," she said.

"I know, I should have picked this up as a hobby in summer," Harry moaned.

"We could be in front of the fire with a book right now," Hermione added.

"Yes..." Harry said, "Winky promised a hot cuppa afterwards though."

"Lovely,"

"She's brilliant. She's managed to remove some of those horrible stains from Dudley's old tracksuits and repair some of the damage to it he did. Much better than I managed and I'm good with needle and thread. She even cast some kind of warming charm on it. It's cold, but I'm not freezing my nuts of like I was yesterday."

"Harry!" Hermione scolded, "that's good though! It means you won't be freezing all the time. I noticed you shivering despite it not being that cold, or being in front of the fire." Hermione replied

"yeah, it's one of the reasons I hate being so god damned skinny," he said, "no insulation. Doesn't matter how much I rug up, I'm always cold. especially when I'm tired. Or hungry."

"Which is always."

"Which is always," he agreed, "not anymore though," he cast a furtive glance around, but it was too early for anyone to be out yet, "not with Winky and Dobby on side. At least, not hungry anyway. I'll still probably be tired all the time, but food should help."

"still having nightmares?" she asked worriedly.

"No worse than normal, but yes, I've perfected my silencing wards. The sound comes in, but nothing gets out. So I won't wake anyone up anymore." he replied in what Hermione thought was a worryingly blasé tone.

"I started looking into the Occlumency book last night." Harry said changing the subject, "It starts with meditation to clear the mind. It's different for everyone. The idea is to meditate and still your mind. You can't stop thinking or feeling, but you can meditate to get your mind to a more still state and push it all to the back. It makes harder to get into. It's different for everyone. Some just push it all away and can stop thinking and feeling. Some focus on a single thing, some use meditation to enter some kind of trance sort of thing. But I didn't really understand that. It said though that mediation is the first step to a greater understanding of your mind and magic, that that was crucial to Occlumency," Harry explained. "I tried it last night. It didn't go too well, but I felt a bit calmer afterwards. If we manage the meditation properly we can progress to becoming familiar with our minds. We can become aware of where it exists and feel the edges. Become aware of what's you and what's not so you can recognise whats not you, and therefore intruders.

It has exercises to work on after you get the basics to help you become aware of your mind and what's others. It helps to have someone who is a Legilimens but it tells you how to do it so maybe we can practice on each other. It also gives exercises to become more familiar with your body and your magical core, your magic within you and its channels. That helps you become aware of it and channel it to different things, like the mind. But I would also think that being aware of your own magic quite intimately would let you tell if there was foreign magic on you or controlling you. You could then channel resistance if you had greater control over your internal magic, like mind magic. maybe we should look into wandless magic." he added on a side note.

"we should, I'll add it to the list, but for now keep telling me about mind magic, it sounds fascinating," Hermione puffed in reply.

"It is fascinating! In the more advanced section, it talks about how to push out intruders, how to make defences, hide your mind and that sort of thing. it even talks about the extremely advances stages where you can hide things, but also hide the fact you're hiding things."

"that sounds fascinating! I can't wait to get started, can I read the book once you've done?"

"course you can. but you're right, it is fascinating, I can't wait to get started. as soon as I thought mind reading might be a thing, I've felt kind of unsafe, it will be so good to get on top of this and have one less thing threatening us," Harry agreed.

"Thanks. If we plan on going to the Roon of Requirement tonight after tea," Hermione said, "we can maybe put aside some time before curfew to practice meditation then. its quiet up there, and we can be comfortable. I've done a bit of meditation before, its big in the muggle world, as is yoga, that can be a form of mediation. It's also good for strength and flexibility, maybe we should try that, or maybe tai-chi,"

"What's that?"

"A slow martial arts, it meditative, I tried it once but I'm not very good at it," she admitted.

"Never thought I'd see the day," he teased

"Oh hush you!"

He grinned but kept grinning.

They finished their run near the quidditch pitch and Harry let them into the Gryffindor lock rooms.

"There's only locker room per house and I don't have the password for the other ones, I can wait out here if you want to go first though," Harry offered, trying not to shiver now he wasn't moving.

"Don't worry about it Harry, there are separate stalls if I remember correctly, that's enough. You're not about to do anything inappropriate and neither am I." Hermione reassured him.

He sagged in relief teeth chattering and all but sprinted into a stall and under the hot water, Hermione's laugh following him.

They showered quickly, Hermione telling him about the book she'd started studying last night.

"So there are a frightful amount of different ways to control a person, not all of them illegal," she started over the noise of the showers. " Some are illegal, some which are spells, curses really, that you can't block. Some you can learn to fight off, like the Imperious curse. It didn't say how though, but you can through off the Imperious curse, so maybe it's like that. Pity we can't practice throwing that one off without having to actually cast it. You can also use compulsion spells to control a person or potions, or a combination of both. using the two together makes it harder to get rid of and detect. It is doable though. Obliviate is used sometimes, someone is more susceptible to suggestion, spells and potions immediately afterwards. There's a spell to detect Obliviate's as well, though there isn't a way to break it without a trained mind healer. Well, you can try, but it's not recommended. It's meant to be really hard, potentially do an incredible amount of damage and can really screw you up. Though it said you can sometimes break it with Occlumency if you know your mind and magic well enough to sense something wrong or foreign magic. Someone wrote a note in the margin saying 'potion,' so maybe there's a way to break it with potions. I'll have to look into it. We should probably check if it's necessary first. We have enough on our plates to research at the moment, without extra that's not immediately helpful. Gods, I can't believe I'm saying that!" She said turning her water off.

Harry let out a snort of amusement from his stall on the other side of the room, "I can't either! We can come back to it later. It's horrible how many ways there are to control other people. Are they ways to detect these methods?" Harry asked getting dressed, thankful that Winky seemed to have put warming charms onto his uniform as well.

"Yes," Hermione replied, "some have detection spells; some have potions, some have counter-charms, some have antidotes and some have both. there is also an all-encompassing purging potion. It's pretty horrible, and it's pretty hard on the body too. It strips all potions from the body completely. Some spells are anchored in a potion though and they do need the purging potion plus a counter-spell. It depends on what spell was used. There is also a potion to strip all spell's, and foreign magic from a person. It's equally harsh on the body and your magic as well. It cautions that not all spells on a person are harmful, that the potion can risk your health, especially on a minor. Its also illegal to brew and use as there are some spells placed on a minor by the ministry to track them, like the trace. The potion wasn't in the book, and I don't know where we would even look."

"It might be worth looking into those two purging potions though," Harry said stepping out of his shower stall, rubbing his hair dry.

Hermione sighed and bit her lip, "I... yes it does make sense. but it also depends on if we need it first. I, unfortunately, don't dought we will have some kind of something on us."

"We'd probably need a pass to the restricted section though," he said, " slipping a ratty beanie over his damp hair to ward off the cold.

Their conversation was interrupted by Winky popping in.

"You is needing this young master Harry sir, Miss Grangy miss," she said handing Harry a spoonful of potion and a tall glass steaming glass, while Hermione got a large hot mug of tea.

Grimacing at the potion, Harry took a cautious sip of the drink. It looked like liquid fruit oatmeal.

"Smells good, what is it Winky?" he asked.

"Winky is making a smoothy for after your run, sir, but it is too cold for an icy one. So Winky is making you a hot oatmeal, banana and apple smoothy sir!" she squeaked excitedly.

He took a sip, "brilliant thanks!"

"It is giving you some nutrients before breakfast, Winky is also putting some Vegemite on the table for you sir."

"Don't you mean Marmite Winky?" Hermione asked.

Winky shook her head, "No miss, it is different miss, similar but is not Marmite. Winky is not liking Marmite miss. Vegemite is good for you sir, Winky is having an Australian cousin, sir, he showed it to me, better than nasty marmite sir. They is being very odd down there, sir, very odd. But they is making this very good spread sir. The muggles in the world war I used it, sir. When food was sparse. It is having lots of good things in it sir. just put a little on sir, with some butter, it will be better for you than the jam so. Winky be sneaking in much good things sir, to squash the Bad Wiskers plan. She be thwarting him, sir. You is being healthy in no time sir, Winky be looking after you sir, and he is not even noticing!" She clapped her hands excitedly then popped away before Harry could thank her.

"You know, I think we may manage this, especially with those two helping," Harry said.

They went up back up to the castle, slipped under the cloak and back up to the Gryffindor common room. It was empty still. Dobby popped with there school bags and popped away their sweety cloths and towels before they could stop him.

"You know you don't have to do that Dobby, we can pick up after ourselves," Hermione said concerned.

Dobby went wide-eyed and horrified, "please don't miss! We is liking work miss, we is liking looking after our master's miss, and you is Harry Potter's Grangy miss. So we gets to be looking after you too miss!" He replied popping away.

They sat in front of the fire and despite it being empty still, Harry cast a silencing charm around them to keep from being overheard. Just in case.

"I worked out a schedule, and a list of what we should look into," she said, "have a look and tell me what you think."

Shifting his armchair a bit closer to the fire, Harry had a look. It was busy, but then her schedules always were. She had scheduled in plenty of time to get things done. It actually made Harry feel a bit better about it all, now he saw how structured it was. Time for catching up on the basics, time for homework, time for research and more advanced study, time for defence and protection training, she'd thought of everything.

"Your brilliant, this is brilliant, you've even put in a bit of time for relaxing," Harry said beaming at her.

"We're going to have so much to get done, we'll need to work really hard, but to get the most out of ourselves we need to relax to, if we work ourselves to the bone, we won't be as effective. relaxing is important too. I figured without quidditch this year, you will probably want some time to fly, I know you really love it."

"I didn't think of that," Harry admitted, "we may need to make lunchtime working lunches, or at least a quick lunch then study. It may help to use that time to revise things, but we could have lunch upstairs in the Room of Requirement," Harry suggested.

"Good idea, but not dinner, dinner should stay work free, I think, and we can't abandon Ron completely. Even if he is being a prat."

When Harry said nothing, she continued, "Maybe only reading a book at breakfast, maybe the next chapter of our textbooks or something to prepare for class." Hermione agreed standing up.

Vegemite, it turned out, was odd, but okay. In fact, it was the nicest thing about breakfast in the great hall that morning. It was very salty and it took Harry a few bites of toast before he figured out how much to put on it. Much preferable than the glares everyone was shooting his way, the whispering and Ron angrily stabbing his sausages on Hermione's other side.

"It looks gross, it smells weird, but it's actually not bad," he quietly after another mouthful, "its saltie, but kinda nice."

He offered Hermione a bite.

She chewed slowly before, murmuring back, "my first reaction when I saw it was, ew, but your right, it actually isn't bad. I'm glad..." she trailed off reluctant to say the Elf's name within earshot of others. "That she," she finally settled on, "warned you not to put much on though I can see how awful it would taste if you put too much on. I wonder where she got it from? I don't they don't sell it here"

"Don't know, I'll have to ask later though, I might have to get a jar to take back to the Dursleys over the summer if it's really that good for you."

He really was sorry the weekend was over, not that it had been nice or relaxing. But he could no longer avoid the rest of the school once he was back at classes. Breakfast alone had made it clear that the rest of the school, like the Gryffindors, thought that he had entered himself into the tournament. Unlike the Gryffindors, however, they did not seem impressed.

Honestly, he should have been surprised, not by the Gryffindors, they had always believed what they wanted of him, as did the rest of the school. They'd always been fickle and had turned on him at the drop of a hat on numerous occasions already. Just look at first and second year. It wasn't all that surprising their reaction, but it hurt all the same.

Things did not improve after breakfast. Not that he really had thought they would. The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on excellent terms with the Gryffindors, had turned remarkably cold toward the whole lot of them. One Herbology lesson was enough to prove that. It was plain that the Hufflepuffs felt that Harry had stolen their champion's glory; a feeling exacerbated, perhaps, by the fact that Hufflepuff House very rarely got any glory. Diggory was one of the few who had ever given them any, having beaten Gryffindor once at Quidditch. Ernie Macmillan and Justin FinchFletchley, with whom Harry normally got on with very well, did not talk to him even though they were repotting Bouncing Bulbs at the same tray. Harry had to grit his teeth and bear it when they laughed rather vindictively when one of the Bouncing Bulbs wriggled free from Harry's grip and smacked him hard in the face.

Ron wasn't talking to Harry either, just glaring at him when he caught Harry's eye. Hermione sat between them, making very forced conversation, but though both answered her normally, Harry avoided making eye contact. Harry thought even Professor Sprout seemed distant with him - but then, she was Head of Hufflepuff House. When had an adult ever actually took his side of things, or at least been fair?

He would have been looking forward to seeing Hagrid under normal circumstances, but Care of Magical Creatures meant seeing the Slytherins too. It was the first time he would come face-to-face with them since becoming champion.

Predictably, Malfoy arrived at Hagrid's cabin with his familiar sneer firmly in place.

"Ah, look, boys, it's the champion," he said to Crabbe and Goyle the moment he got within earshot of Harry. "Got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt he's going to be around much longer... Half the Triwizard champions have died... how long d'you reckon you're going to last, Potter? Ten minutes into the first task's my bet."

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed sycophantically, but Malfoy had to stop there, because Hagrid emerged from the back of his cabin balancing a teetering tower of crates, each containing a very large Blast-Ended Skrewt. To the class's horror, Hagrid proceeded to explain that the reason the skrewts had been killing one another was an excess of pent-up energy and that the solution would be for each student to fix a leash on a skrewt and take it for a short walk. The only good thing about this plan was that it distracted Malfoy completely.

"Take this thing for a walk?" he repeated in disgust, staring into one of the boxes. "And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?"

"Roun' the middle," said Hagrid, demonstrating. "Er - yeh might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, jus' as an extra precaution, like. Harry - you come here an' help me with this big one...

Hagrid's real intention, however, was to talk to Harry away from the rest of the class. He waited until everyone else had set off with their skrewts, then turned to Harry and said, very seriously, "So - yer competin', Harry. In the tournament. School champion."

"One of the champions," Harry corrected him, "I'm not the Hogwarts Champion Hagrid, Diggory is the real one, I'm just stuck in it as a reluctant extra."

Hagrid's beetle-black eyes looked very anxious under his wild eyebrows.

"No idea who put yeh in fer it, Harry?"

"You believe I didn't do it, then?" said Harry, concealing with difficulty the rush of gratitude he felt at Hagrid's words.

"Course I do," Hagrid grunted. "Yeh say it wasn' you, an' I believe yeh - an' Dumbledore believes yer, an' all."

"Wish I knew who did do it," said Harry bitterly, "or how to get out of it."

The pair of them looked out over the lawn; the class was widely scattered now, and all in great difficulty. The skrewts were now over three feet long, and extremely powerful. No longer shell-less and colourless, they had developed a kind of thick, greyish, shiny armour. They looked like a cross between giant scorpions and elongated crabs - but still without recognizable heads or eyes. They had become immensely strong and very hard to control.

"Where'd you get these things anyway? They're not in our textbooks, I've never even heard of them." Harry asked somewhat horrified and yet curious.

Hagrid looked a bit shifty, "well... erm... they're a mix between Manticore and Fire crab."

"Wow... how'd you bread them?" Harry asked reading between the lines, "how on earth did you get them to bread without eating each other?"

"What do yer think of em?" Haggard asked avoiding the question entirely.

Harry laughed, "honestly Hagrid? I think they're quite possibly one of the weirdest, ugliest things I've ever seen bar none, except quite possibly my cousin. But while I think they're going to eat us, I can understand the appeal and why you like them. They are... in a fashion, fascinating." Harry said after a moment.

Hagrid beamed before, "they won't harm you, Harry, not while I'm here. Yer know that. Look like they're havin' fun, don' they?"

Harry assumed he was talking about the skrewts, because his classmates certainly weren't; every now and then (with an alarming bang that made Harry jump,) one of the skrewts' ends would explode, causing it to shoot forward several yards, and more than one person was being dragged along on their stomach, trying desperately to get back on their feet.

"Ah, I don' know, Harry," Hagrid sighed suddenly, looking back down at him with a worried expression on his face. "School champion... everythin' seems ter happen ter you, doesn' it?"

Harry didn't answer. Yes, everything did seem to happen to him. . . that was more or less what Hermione had said as they had walked around the grounds, and that was the reason, according to her, that Ron was no longer talking to him.

He was incredibly grateful over the next few days that he had so much work to do to keep him busy, and had taken up running. It kept him busy and distracted and did wonders for cooling down his temper and giving him an outlet when he got to mad at the world. It was just as well, as the next few days were some of Harry's worst at Hogwarts. It was like his second year all over again though. The stairs the whispers, the snide comments and glaring. Even the occasional hex in the hall if there were no witnesses. At least back in his second year, Ron had been on his side. He thought he could have coped with the rest of the school's behaviour if he could just have had Ron back as a friend. But he wasn't going to try and persuade Ron to talk to him if Ron didn't want to. Not when we would just drop him again next time something horrible happened to Harry that Ron was jealous of. As much as he missed Ron, and wanted him back, Harry was tired of people turning on him. He didn't think his friendship with Ron could ever come back from this. He didn't think he could forgive that. He wasn't sure he wanted it to. Nevertheless, it was lonely with dislike pouring in on him from all sides.

Herbology on Monday morning, showed him that though the Hufflepuff had a reputation for being kind and fair. It didn't extend to him, or to believing him. He could understand the Hufflepuffs' attitude, he supposed though, even if he didn't like it. They had their own champion to support. He expected nothing less than vicious insults from the Slytherins - he was highly unpopular there and always had been because he had helped Gryffindor beat them so often, both at Quidditch and in the Inter-House Championship. It also probably didn't help that he let Malfoy antagonise him so much. Now that was food for thought. Maybe he should start ignoring the blond prat... Slytherin couldn't all be horrible if he didn't antagonise them... But they did seem to take delight in hexing him in the back. The fact that Trelawney had predicted his death 4 times in divination after lunch didn't help his mood. But neither did the Ravenclaws who had taken to joining the Slytherins in their hexing of him. Some of the hexes they used were devilishly difficult to undo or find the counter-charm for, he was very grateful to the Room of Requirments seemingly endless supply of reference books. He had hoped the Ravenclaws might have found it in their hearts to support him as much as Diggory. He was wrong, however. While he hadn't had any classes with them directly that day, he learnt in the halls that most Ravenclaws seemed to think that he had been desperate to earn himself a bit more fame by tricking the goblet into accepting his name. They had even resorted doing as the Slytherins had, hexing him in the corridors. He'd had to spend a good hour after class, in the Library, looking up the counter-charms to get rid of the hex that had caught him. He was grateful for the first time in his life, that one of Dudley's favourite childhood activities was Harry hunting. It meant he had had a lot of practice hiding, running and dodging. A small part of him wanted to yell and rage at the unfairness of it all. He'd never done anything to his peers. Yet they turned on him at the drop of a hat. What had he ever done to them? But the older part of him, the smarter, cynical side of him, knew that of course, they would turn on him. People as a whole were both moronic and were neither good nor trustworthy. That's just how it worked. If you weren't useful, people turned on you.

There was also, Harry supposed a touch self-pityingly, the fact that Diggory actually looked the part of a champion. People were fickle like that. It didn't surprise Harry that they liked Diggory more. He exceptionally handsome, with his straight nose, dark hair, and grey eyes. It was hard to say who was receiving more admiration these days, Diggory or Krum. Harry actually saw the same sixth-year girls who had been so keen to get Krum's autograph begging Diggory to sign their school bags one lunchtime. Next to that, Harry didn't stand a chance. Not when he was short and skinny enough to look like he should still be in primary school. Not with his taped up shoes, ratty oversized clothes, impossibly hair and ugly glasses. Diggory was also pretty well liked by the school. Not like Harry, who they turned on whenever the wind seemed to change. Not that Harry actually wanted them to like him. He didn't want extra attention and hangers-on. No, he just wanted to be treated with simple human decency for a change. Was that really too much to ask?

Apparently so.

Meanwhile, there was no reply from Sirius, Hedwig was refusing to come anywhere near him,(still angry that he hadn't used her to send the letters. He'd spent History of Magic on Tuesday morning, with earplugs in to block out Bins's stupor-inducing voice so he could actually get some sturdy done. He had gotten through the Hogwarts: A History the day before. He understood why Hermione liked it now. The Castle's History was fascinating. He was trying to get through Everything you need to know about everything: a students primer. But Hermione kept elbowing him sharply in the ribs trying to get him to pay attention.

"Stop it!" He had hissed, "I'm trying to study!"

"Pay attention!" She hissed back.

"He puts me to sleep, I've already read that chapter in the textbook, give it a rest and let me get some work done." He snapped back.

She glared at him disapprovingly, "well don't come to me begging for notes when you panic at exam time."

"I don't need them, he only talks out of the book!" Harry replied furiously.

In transfiguration that same morning, harry half hopped that Mcgonagle may actually notice that he got his Switching spell right on the first try. He supposed she must be so used to him taking ages and playing stupid that she had stopped bothering with him.

The week didn't improve from there. The only bright patch was that between not bothering to hold back in class and no longer dumbing down his homework he was getting it done a lot quicker. Not having Ron there to distract him every five seconds also helped. Harry spent a lot of time that week, in the room of requirement working over the primer and going through his old textbooks again. It was amazing how much more he understood now. Everything just made sense. He'd worked through the Meditation book too, 'The Mindful book of Meditation'. It certainly helped with his Occlumency studies. It had gone into a lot more detail on how to meditate and bring his mind and magic into stillness and harmony, how to clear his mind. He was actually really enjoying it. He hadn't managed to get as anywhere with feeling his magic though. He could still his mind to an extent. But he could feel his magic. Even with his wand, he felt a slight tingling in his wand hand, but that was it. Channelling specific amounts of magic had always been guesswork for him. Meditating on it though, it felt constantly just out of reach, like there was something blocking him. But it was relaxing, so he kept going. He also learnt a bunch of nifty study and stationary spells in the 'study and stationary spells and charms: a Ravenclaws guide.' In fact, now that everyone was churning him, he had several quiet afternoons in front of the fire I the Room of Requirement reading his textbooks, with a cup of Winkey's hot-chocolate.

The respite the room provided was probably the only thing that kept him going that week. Even Hermione was starting to grate his nerves a little, constantly trying to get him to talk to Ron and makeup.

By the time he had finished classes on Friday and had removed the days Hex - only one today, he was getting better at dodging and blocking - he was just about ready to sleep for a week. But he curled up in an armchair in front of the Fire the room had provided and opened up the assigned reading. Winky popped in with a cup of tea and a sandwich, that helped a bit.

It only took him an hour or two to finish the homework he had for the weekend, much quicker than it would have taken a month ago. It was surprising how much easier it was now he had got the basics and understood them. It was surprising again how much quicker he could write his essays when not dumbing them down, it used to take him at least another draft or two to get them suitably stupid.

"Wow, Harry this is actually really good, it's concise but still answers the topic in a suitably in-depth analysis. Well done." Hermione had said when she joined him later. He'd been too tired to argue with her that it was fine, as is and that he didn't think it needed a look over. He'd just handed them over.

"Thanks, it's much easier now I've read the class Primer. There was so much that I didn't know. I've started revising my previous textbooks too and it makes so much sense now. It's like everything is clicking into place. It's brilliant. Now that I finally understand the theory, I've been going back over all our old spells as well while revising all my old textbooks. They are so much simpler now that I understand the theory. I didn't exactly struggle with spell work before. But now I can get most of the first through third year spells silently, and some of this years. Some of them I can even manage to pointcast. Though that takes more practice and concentration. It's such a relief to know it wasn't just me being an idiot, there really was something missing." He had confided.

"I'm glad Harry," she said smiling, "check this for me will you?" She asked, handing him her runes work. He grinned, he loved runes.

It was also a lot more fun and engaging now that he had spoken to Proffecer Babbling and Vector about independent Study for their classes. They had agreed to meet up with him one night a week to check his progress in his self-study of their subjects and to give and collect his homework for the week. He was glad that he had done it. It was much more interesting with there extra reading and lecture notes. He loved runes, and Arithmancy was brilliant too. So logical, and he could see himself using it to combine spells, runes and potions to create things. Actually, that's what he should do for Hedwig. Combine protection spells, with some notice me not rune wards and maybe some protection potion to make her a collar, so he could still use her to send mail regularly. He pulled out a bit of parchment and start scribbling down notes.

He dragged himself back to the room after dinner, to finish revising the last of his old spells and textbooks. And had forced himself to work all the way through 'Magic's Real: what to now you know the extraordinary is really ordinary, a Muggleborn's guide.' It was long, and his eyes were already aching from working all day, but he used one of the new study spells and spelled the book to read aloud to him while he took notes. The book was fascinating. It talked about the basics of how the magical word was structured, the ministry and the government and the class system. It sounded similar to the muggle feudal system in the medievals. It talked about the statute of secrecy, why it was there and the exceptions to the rules. It explained the education system OWLs, NEWTS and available post-NEWT Mastery studies. It explained different communication and transportation options, basic places, how to get there and what survives they provided; St Mungo's Hospital, the ministry visitor entrance, Nockturn, Diagon and Hookturn Ally's and Hogsmeade to name a few. It even discussed jobs in the wizarding world and what they wore. The thing it didn't cover, though it mentioned, was the bank, and social classes and etiquette. But he'd get to those books next.

He was so engrossed in his study that by the time he had finished the book and was writing up the last of his notes, that Dobby had to poke him to get his attention just before curfew. Harry started violently, dropping his book and springing to his feet, his arms over his head.

"Harry Potter sir! Dobby is Sorry sir!" The elf squeaked.

Harry blinked.

"Oh, its okay Dobby. What time is it?" He asked

"Almost curfew sir! Harry potters Grangy has already gone back to the Tower sir!" the elf replied.

Harry looked around startled, he hadn't noticed Hermione left. He picked up his book, and put it and his completed notes away in his bag. Donning the cloak, he hurried back to the tower.

He pulled the cloak off as the Fat Lady was letting him in, but stopped dead.

Most of Gryffindor was spread out around the room, watching Ron and Hermione shooting themselves horse at each other.

They were so busy yelling at each other, Harry couldn't actually understand a word they were saying.

"What are they arguing over this time?" He asked Ginny.

"You," she said succinctly.

"What?" He asked.

"How could you take his side!" Ron shouted,

"I'm not you're being a prat!" Hermione yelled back.

"You are, you're always with him, you haven't played chess all week with me, it's study, homework, Harry. All the time! You're letting him control you!"

"What?!" She shrieked!

Then he rounded on Harry, "Its all your fault!" He screamed.

"You leave Harry out of this Ron!" Hermione hollered back.

"He's stealing you from me! Your my friend too, but you've gone and sided with him. The great prat! I haven't seen you all week and you're always whispering to each other." Ron snapped back at her before turning back to yell at Harry.

"Ronald Weasley! How dare you, treat me like a possession!" Hermione shrieked.

"Enough!" Harry cut in, fed up.

They both turned to him in surprise.

"I don't control who Hermione associates with Weasley," Harry said cooly, "I apologise if you feel I have been monopolising her time. Hermione is, of course, free to spend as much time as she likes with whoever she wants. Hermione thank you for your assistance, I have enjoyed studying with you. You are of course my friend and are welcome to join me whenever you like. Now, I have a headache, I'm going up to bed. Hermione, thank you for your company studying, but don't feel you have to spend all your time with me. Weasley, try to talk about your problems in a civilised tone, yelling hardly solves anything," Harry finished icily. He was heartily sick of Ron's attitude.

He stalked up the stairs, leaving a stunned Gryffindor behind him.

Hermione follows him up the stair's a short way, throwing up a silencing charm around them, looking guilty

"Harry I-" she started

"You can spend time with him too. It's okay." He reassured her.

"Your both being so stupid and it's taking me in two." She said sniffling Horsley.

"Now you know how I feel when you bicker all the time," Harry said gently.

"That's different, you being stupid, just talk to him. He'll get over it."

"Maybe but it's a little too late."

"You mean you won't forgive him"

"No," he said shortly

"He's your friend!"

"Yes, he was but I don't forgive being staled I the back and abandoned."

"But Harry!"

"I do not forgive, and I do not forget. Fool me once shame on me, fool me twice, you won't fool me twice."

"Boys!" She huffed storming off.

**Notes:**

Also, No insult meant to any other Auzzy's, I'm from Down Under as well, I'm not hating I promise. 3

I do also love Vegemite, couldn't resist putting it in. It's perfect for harry's situation. It kept me going for a whole month when I was too sick to manage anything but Vegemite toast. It's the bees knees, seriously some magical stuff, (and way better than Marmite!)


	8. Chapter 8 Magic

**Quick Notes:**

Scroll to the bottom for some more specific trigger warnings if you want them.

(This is how I do it, its not up for discussion. If you don't like it read something else, this is not a democracy.)

Sorry it took so long, I have the next 2 books plotted out as well as most of the next 4 chapters written, it just took me an age to edit them.

It's an emotional one, hang in there.

Happy reading, no flames.

...

Harry woke up bleary eyed the next day for their run.

"Sorry for snapping at you last night," Hermione said as they sneaked through the Castle under the cloak and onto the grounds, "I was frustrated."

"It's fine, it happens," he said putting the cloak in his pocket as they reached the lake's edge.

"I won't abandon you, but I won't abandon Ron either," Hermione explained worriedly as they broke into a run.

"Didn't expect you to Hermione, as I said, I am grateful for your help and friendship, I enjoy spending time with you, but you can be friends and spend time with whoever you want. It's your choice, I would never try and control you like that, your my friend," Harry replied calmly.

She let out a huff of relief, "did you even sleep?" She asked suddenly looking at the dark rings under his eyes, "you went to bed early."

Harry snorted, "Na... You know I don't really sleep well, not really, so I stayed up reading. I figured if I was going to be awake or sleeping badly I may as well get something productive done. It was late though, even by my standards. I have finished some of them."

"Oh, which one did you get through this week?"

"I've read, 'Hogwarts: A History,' I understand why you like it so much now, it was really interesting. I had no idea about half the stuff it talked about in there. The founders' story was much more detailed than I thought, and the explanation of the workings of the castle and its magic was brilliant. I'll have to re-read it later in more detail later. I also got through 'Study and Stationary Spells and Charms: a Ravenclaw's Guide.' That one was especially useful, I had no idea there were so many charms and spells to help with homework. I liked Tales of Beatle the Bard, it was a bit of fun, early one morning when I'd been woken up. Never got kids books growing up. I also got through 'The Mindful Book of Meditation.' It's great. I started it as soon as I'd done with the Mind magic book from the room of requirement, it had really helped. I'd never tried meditation before. It was hard at first, but I'm was getting the hang of it now. I really liked it. The more I practise, the closer I get to being able to feel and find my magical core. But I just can't get it, it was almost as if something was blocking it. I'm doing all the steps, but it's odd."

"How so?" She asked, "the book said was really important for connecting with and grounding your magic so that you can use and channel it more effectively. It's important you persevere with it, Harry."

"I know, I'm not slacking on it, Hermione, honestly," he puffed out slightly annoyed, as they rounded the edge of the lake, "I'm just having trouble with it. You tried it yet?"

"What about the meditation is giving you trouble though? I've been practising it, it's hard to clear my mind, but it's easy to feel my magic, a warmth in my chest. It's nice."

"Ah, it's the opposite for me, stilling my mind I can manage now I know how to do it. It's less emptying your head, and more, being aware and the present moment. It's about clinging on to whatever thoughts pop up. It's feeling my magic, I'm having trouble with, it's like it's not there." He puffed out, as they rounded the bend.

"That's so odd," Hermione said, "have you read 'Controlling Magics and Their Counters' yet? I don't remember there being something on it but it may help? Maybe someone has done something to your core. There are spells and potions to block abilities."

"I've started it, but I've been focusing on the primer. I want to get that and the 'Magic is Real' one does this weekend." He said. "I even went over that Wizard's health book, to see if anything in there may tell me why it may be hard to get at. But it only said squibs can't feel their magic like we can, because they don't have enough of their own to use, they don't have a magical core like we do. But it can't be that, I can do spells okay, and I can feel other magic, no problem, just not mine." Harry puffed out

"What do you mean, feel other magic?" Hermione said incredulously.

"Well, I can feel the wards when I enter Hogwarts, and when I ward my bed. I can feel magic in the air when I'm around wizards. Wizard places feel different. I don't know how to explain it, magic just feels different, like a soft buzzing, like its alive."

"Harry, you can't feel magic, it's not alive, we don't feel magic outside of our selves," Hermione said slowly.

"You mean that you can't feel anything different when you step into, say Hogwarts or Diagonally, than you do when you step into a muggle supermarket?" Harry asked incredulously.

"No of course not, no one can 'feel' magic, not outside of the body anyway. It doesn't work like that."

"I can," he said confused.

"Don't be silly Harry," she dismissed, "if you can't feel your own magic, how on earth can you feel any other type of magic, one that doesn't exist out of the body in the way you're implying!"

"But it does exist out of the body, look at spells and wards."

"Yes but not in an alive way, it's not sentient, it doesn't exist out of the body by itself. You can't feel it," Hermione explained exasperatedly.

"Hogwarts is sentient," he replied with feeling.

"It's a building Harry! It's not alive."

"Haven't you ever noticed the stairs change sometimes if you're in a hurry and they might move to help you get there in time"

"Don't be silly harry. They're in a random pattern, they don't move to help you. It's a random quirk the founders programmed in to keep us on our toes." she dismissed.

Harry frowned. He had always had a low-level awareness of magic. Even when he didn't really understand it. He had always known that his aunt's house felt a little funny, and later he had learnt that it was magic, it was the wards. Diagon Ally felt similar, as did Hogwarts, they were magical.

Harry had also always had a similar low-level awareness of the energy of those around him as well, it wasn't always magic, but it was something similar. there was an energy in every living thing. they felt different. As a child, that awareness often manifested as being able to quickly and easily read others body language, and a vague awareness of their moods. Some people, like uncle Vernon, just felt dangerous, prone to being loud and violent, while Dudley felt sluggish most of the time. But there was also an undercurrent of a potential threat, in the way the energy vibrated around him. Aunt Petunia felt sharp and shrill, not aggressively dangerous the way his uncle did, but more subtle, more sneaky, dangerous. Most adults felt dangerous, and nearly always made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Some were worse than others, they may have looked harmless at times, but something about them just felt off. He always tried to listen to those feelings, though it had been harder at Hogwarts. There was so much magic, it was so 'loud,' so much energy, so much magic, calling to him, it sometimes drowned out how people felt individually. It was as if since he arrived at Hogwarts that sense of how people felt, had been deafened or something. He loved magic though, it felt alive, and energetic, wild. He couldn't fathom not being able to feel it. It was overwhelming sometimes, stepping into a magic heavy place after being away from it all summer, but normally it helped him. Magic rich places often seemed to lend him a bit of energy when he was bone tired. Hogwarts seemed to wrap her energy around him like a protective cat. Even if she did feel dormant, like a cat sleeping in the sun just waiting to be woken. He may not have been able to feel his own - he knew she tried to nudge him along sometimes, but he always stopped feeling it when it interacted with his - but he could feel her wrap the magic around him like a soft warm breath of air. She still felt saturated with magic, old and wise. He couldn't fathom not being able to feel it. That was what made not being able to feel his own magic, or other magic interacting with his own, so puzzling. All he can feel of his own was a cold empty sickly sensation. It dulled things. Hogwarts tried to reach out to him, he could tell, sometimes when he was alone and meditating, he could feel something, but as soon as magic tried to interact with his own, he can't feel it quite right, it was as if he were blindfolded. Potions were similar. He knew the ingredients held magic, he could feel that. But as soon as he tried to infuse them with his own, as one was meant to, he couldn't feel anything. It was so frustrating. Even trying to moderate or channel his own magic in spells was less the control one should have after 4 years of training and more wild blind guesswork.

"Harry?" Hermione said a little worried.

"you really can't feel it? how alive Hogwarts is? You can't feel the magic?" he asked incredulously.

"No," she said.

He was distracted from replying when he saw something moving out of the corner of his eye. He turned and stumbled to a halt, nearly making Hermione run into him.

"What's up?" She asked.

"What's that?" He asked pointing to the strangest looking creature he'd ever seen. If he had had to give it a name, he supposed... he would have called it a horse? Though, there was something reptilian about it too. It was completely fleshless, it's black velvety coat clinging to its skeleton, of which every bone was visible. Its head was dragonish, it's pupil-less eyes white and staring. Wings sprouted from its withers - vast, black leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the early morning gloom in the shadows of the forest, it looked eerie and sinister.

"What Harry? There's nothing there." Hermione said puzzled

"No, that horse, Can't you see it? Between the Oak and the Elm? It's black, skeletal and has bat-like wings. White eyes."

"No Harry, I can't" Hermione grabbed his elbow. He flinched at the touch. She frowned at the familiar reaction but didn't say anything.

There was something strangely fascinating about it. It was oddly beautiful. He took a step closer to it. It didn't move away but turned it white eyes to stare at him.

He took another step closer, slowly. Hermione called his name softly, but he ignored her. How could she not see it? He felt strongly drawn to it as it let him go right up to it. He offered it a hand cautiously.

It snorted, steam rising from its nostrils in the cold morning air. Its boney skin was surprisingly soft, covered in a fine layer of black velvety down. And it's boney frame hid surprisingly strong sinus muscles. He stroked it's nose for a moment before an odd, shrieking cry echoed through the trees like the call of some monstrous bird. The creature, whatever it was, looked up suddenly, back into the trees. It looked at him one more time, nosed at his chest briefly, then disappeared into the trees. Leaving a slightly dazed Harry behind.

"Harry?" Hermione called again, "Harry what's wrong?"

"There was a creature here. Some sort of horse I think, you couldn't see if for some reason. I said hello, but then something called it back into the forest." He said jogging over to her.

They continued around the edge of the forest, but Hermione looked very worried, glancing over at his every few meters as if he were going mad.

"I'm not crazy it was there, and so is magic. Maybe it's like the Basilisk, only I could hear it because I'm a Parselmouth. I'll look it up and tell you about it later on okay?"

"Okay Harry," Hermione agreed, sounding shaken, but relieved.

They ran into Hagrid on the way back from the Quidditch changing rooms, as he was coming out of the forest.

"'ello you two, yer up early!" He called.

"Hello Hagrid," Hermione said

"Oh! You might know!" Harry exclaimed excitedly.

"Yeah? What'cha after Harry?" He asked, his beetle black eyes cringing as he smiled fondly at them.

"Harry saw something in the trees this morning, on our run," Hermione said.

"I could see it, skeletal and horselike, with wings. Hermione couldn't see it though. They were pulling the carriages this year too, but no-one else could see them then either. Ron thought I was nuts. But it let me touch it this morning, so I know I wasn't just seeing things."

Hagrid nodded at him, "Yeah … yeah, I', not surprised you'd be able ter see 'em, Harry," he said seriously, "Thestrals,"

"What are they?" Harry asked curiously, "I didn't notice them in 'Fantastic Beasts'."

"No, they're not in there, they're in the 'Monster Book' though. Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. They aren' unlucky like many think. They're dead clever an' useful! Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' don' want ter Apparate. But the only people who can see Thestrals, are people who have seen death." Hagrid said seriously.

Harry frowned, "why couldn't I see them at the end of the second year then? We took the carriages to the train at the end of the term, that's the first time I would have encountered them. I saw my mum die, why did I see the Thestrals before now."

"You were probably too young to understand it, Harry. You saw it but maybe didn't really understand what it meant till now?" Hagrid suggested.

"Oh..." Harry said, "the dementors, I couldn't remember that night, till the dementors. That's when I remember it. It was just sound at first, but then I saw it. In my dreams, her dying. That's why I can see them now, I can remember it now, I understand it now." He murmured.

Hermione squeezed his hand gently.

"Come down to me hut Monday after class," Hagrid suggested, "we can have a cuppa, and I'll take you to see them if you like? I'll be going in to check on them again then. They'll be foaling soon."

They farewelled Hagrid and went up to the Room of Requirement to have breakfast while Harry prepared for the tournament.

Harry spent most of the weekend sprawled in front of the fire in the room of requirement reading 'Everything you need to know about everything, a students primer." It was amazing how much made sense now that the very basics were being explained. He was amazed at how much he had missed. Especially when he then went back and read his first, second and third-year texts. everything just seemed to click into place. It was painfully obvious now that a lot of the basics the teachers had assumed they all knew. They hadn't reviewed or gone over it. It was assumed that half the class had been raised knowing it and therefore didn't need a refresher, and the other half had been giving an introductory packet that explained it all. Know having the basics, it made such a difference. And he noticed he was having a lot less trouble understanding the theory he had previously struggled with now he had the basics.

He trudged up to the dorm room after curfew, avoiding a Malfoy like grin from Ron, and crawled into bed. He forced himself to finish off 'Magic's Real: what to now you know the extraordinary is really ordinary, a muggleborn guide.' It was long, and his eyes were spreading aching from working all day, but he used one of the new study spells and spelled the book to read aloud to him while he took notes. The book was fascinating. It talked about the basics of how the magical word was structured, the ministry and the government and the class system. It sounded similar to the muggle feudal system in the medievals. It talked about the statute of secrecy, why it was there and the exceptions to the rules. It explained the education system OWLs, NEWTS and available post-NEWT Mastery studies. It explained different communication and transportation options, basic places, how to get there and what survives they provided; St Mungo's Hospital, the ministry visitor entrance, Nockturn, Diagon and Hookturn Ally's and Hogsmeade to name a few. It even discussed jobs in the wizarding world and what they wore. The thing it didn't cover, though it mentioned, was the bank, and social classes and etiquette. It was 3 in the morning by the time Harry had finished. He thought he might finally be exhausted enough to probably sleep without nightmares.

They spent most of Sunday reviewing all the spells in the repertoire so far. Now that the theory made sense, it was a lot easier, to go over the first three and a bit years worth of spells. It was tiring, but by the end of the day, Harry could cast the first and second-year spells silently, he was also surprised by just how many spells were in their books that they didn't look at in class. Harry's theory was that if he wasn't going to as advanced as the other champions he could at least be highly familiar with the spells he did know, and be both highly competent at them, but also very familiar with how they could be used. Harry and Hermione actually had a lot of fun, trying to outdo each other on who could come up with the most uses and the most outlandish uses for different spells.

He spent a good few hours before bed meditating and doing the introductory exercises to get a feel of his magic. He worked through all the children exercises, but still didn't have any luck. Harry was so tired when he finally got to bed, he didn't get any nightmares.

On Monday morning on their run, Hermione said, "So did you get any sleep this weekend? I know you wanted to finish that list. And you were already tired before."

"Not much sleep no, that's pretty normal, you know I have trouble sleeping. I've always had nightmares. It's a bit more intense lately but nothing new," he hedged knowing better than avoiding the question, but not wanting to discuss the string of persistent horrid dreams. It was like second-year all over again. He didn't normally have nightmares about the Dursley's this far into the school year. They'd normally petered off by now. And he hadn't had nightmares about Second Year since Christmas of the year before. But the shunning of the school seemed to bring everything back. The Dursleys, his uncle's belt, his aunts frying pan, Harry hunting, the basilisk, voices in the wall, being hexed in the back in the corridors. He'd even started having nightmares about the dementors, his parents being murdered, Quirelmort and the unicorn in the forest dying from back in First Year. It was a wonder he was getting any sleep at all.

"I finished most of the books," he continued, changing the topic, "I haven't even started the Gringotts one or the Pureblood culture and Wizarding etiquette one. They can wait for the moment, etiquette and banking won't help me not die I don't think. But I am mostly caught up except for those two. I can just focus on working ahead now. And figuring out how to keep us safe, and who's manipulating us. I have just started to read that book you summarised about the different ways to control and manipulate people, 'Controlling Magics and Their Counters'. So I can start practising the detection spells. I think we need to work on Occlumency. It's clear someone is doing something fishy, but we cannot afford to find out before we can protect that knowledge. So work on that, and protection spells and things.

agreed."

"Sounds like a plan, we'll make a start after our homework tonight."

"Oh, I wanted to ask you what you thought of potions actually. Even after the primers, it doesn't make sense."

"What do you mean?" Hermione said perplexed.

"The primer, in the Potions section. It helps but not enough."

It had helped, it explained exactly what chop and dice and what the difference between crushing, powdering and grinding was and why they were important. He had spent an hour practising with herbs and vegetables Winky lent him from the kitchens. The primer also explained to him how to activate the ingredient's magic through by using disown magic, subtly during the preparation and how to infuse the potion with magic with his string (widdershins or deosil, direction matters.) It also showed what colour was what. Lemon Yellow and Buttercup Yellow were vastly different as was Sea Green and Peacock Green.

"It tells you the basic important things, but it doesn't explain why things react the way they do. Just the things you need to know, like colour shades, and ingredient prep. I want to know why a boil cure will explode if you don't take it off the fire before the snake fangs go it. It doesn't say what ingredient does what and why. I have been trying to make a table of correspondence with all the ingredients and their different reactions to different things. It would help me understand it better, and compensate when Malfoy or his goons toss something in my cauldron. It also doesn't talk about the effects of different preparations, or storing and how much magic to put in and how to feel the potion. And I know that matters, it has to, different potions feel different. But the book just looks at the importance of magic in preparation, and stirring, and using your magic to infuse and power the potion. It kept me up till about 2 am. It's the only subject that doesn't make perfect sense now that I have done the introduction books."

"Hmm, I never really thought of the why's behind steps in potions. I just figured it was like maths, 2+2=4. It didn't really matter why I guess as long as I did it in the right steps, like an algebra equation. I can see how it would frustrate you though. You might find another book in the library about it though. I think potions just pick up the brewers magic, I don't think there's anything to feel about it. Potions are equations harry. Or that's my understanding of it." She suggested as they ran along the edge of the forest instead of the lake.

"Hmm, I'll check the Room out later, that seems to be good for finding books."

They started their homework at lunch so they could spend some time with Hagrid after class that day. Two Thestrals gave birth while they were there. Hagrid got Harry and Hermione to help him, help the Thestrals through it. It was both horrifyingly disgusting, but beautiful and brilliant all at once. Harry loved every minute of working with and caring for the strange animals, even if it was bloody.

"Can I come and help you in the forest with the animals more often Hagrid? That was fascinating, I really like animals. I'm up early? I'll work hard and be useful, I promise," he begged, feeling more excited and curious than he had in a long time, "I like animals, they don't lie like people, treat them right and they treat you right. What you see is what you get. Please, Hagrid, I'll be really useful, you won't regret it."

Hagrid chuckled, "yer remind me of Charlie Weasley ye do, talking like that. Didn't know you liked animals that much Harry?" He asked.

"I've always like animals. I enjoy your class, I just never really had a chance to do more, never thought to ask, was never allowed to ask question's at the Dursleys," he mumbled looking at his feet, "I don't really now I could ask, but I don't know what this year doing to bring. I need all the help and knowledge I can get. Hermione has been reading up on the past tournaments. But there is always one creature based task. I want to prepare for it and have as much experience with different animals as I can if I want to survive. I don't know what it will be, and I can't as for help on the tasks, but I can at least try and learn all I can about animals, and asking to learn more about them in general, isn't asking for help in the tournament," Harry grinned, "at least this sort of study and preparation is enjoyable." Harry explained with a happy grin, that Hermione couldn't actually remember seeing on his face in much too long.

"Alright," Hagrid said, "you come at dawn, and I'll take you with me on me rounds in the first. Some things happen at night, but we'll see how we go."

"Thanks, Hagrid!" Harry said.

"We can move our runs to the morning or evening as needed to work around your schedule Hagrid," Hermione offered.

Harry was trudging up to the Owlery later the following night. He was under the cloak, it was well after curfew. He figured if he was up after curfew already, he may as well take a moment to see Hedwig. He had some of her favourite treats in his pocket. Maybe he would be able to persuade her to forgive him. He'd missed her, her warm presence was soothing. He'd been insanely busy all day. With was a good distraction. He had spent a good few hours that morning with Hagrid that morning after his run with Hermione, looking after Hyppogriff with a sprained wing. He'd managed to perfect the Protago and the Point Me spell that afternoon after he had finished his homework. He was toying with using Latin, to direct the spell, that usually was only meant to point North. It would be so good if he could just ask it to point out where something specific was. He thought it would work, he just needed to work on his Latin. He was pretty good with languages, but he hadn't managed to get it to do anything except point north or spin confusedly.

Hedwig was easily spotted up in the Owlery. He was surprised she wasn't out actually. He pulled the hood of the cloak off his head and whistled softly to her. He held up an arm.

He'd really missed her. He didn't often get mail, but she nearly always intercepted his mail or somehow just new when people needed to write to him. It was very rare for him to get mail not delivered by her. He hatted the fact he couldn't use her to send letters all the time. He wanted to be mad at Sirius for pointing it out, but he was right. She was too obvious, too easily spotted and tracked. He'd have to come up with somewhat to protect her, maybe give her a Notice-me-not charm? One that maybe only worked on wizards? Though not having his relatives noticing her would be good... And maybe something to keep her safe from tracking spells. He wondered idly if it was deliberate. He hated to think bad of Hagrid, he had given Harry Hedwig, his first ever present. But was it deliberate? She was the most noticeable owl in the owlery and there were hundreds of them, she was the only Snowey. It had not even taken him 5seconds to find her amongst all the owls there. Even when half of them at least were out hunting.

Hedwig landed on the sill next to him, instead of his outstretched arm. She watched him coolly, her golden eyes luminous in the dark.

He got up and went over to her, but she snapped her beak when he went to touch her. He tried holding out an owl treat to her. She turned her back reproachfully at him and didn't move from where she was perching.

"Still mad at me huh?" He said wistfully, soft so not to disturb the other owls.

She ignored him.

"It's not my fault. Your one of my best friends. I love you dearly, your my very favourite owl, my very favourite of any and all avians, even Fawks." That got her attention. He held his arm out again. She gave a reproachful hoot but glided over to his arm and accepted the treat delicately from him.

"Your brilliant, I know it, you know it. Me not sending you is not at all a reflection on you or your ability," he whispered to her, I know your the best. But if I send you with a letter everyone will know. People are nuts here. There obsessed with me, and someones trying to kill me. Again. People are trying left, right and centre to manipulate me. Everyone knows your my owl. I love you, but I don't trust them not to use you to get to me. You're so beautiful, but it also makes you stand out, so people could track you very easily. It's not a criticism!" He hurried, "I don't want you hurt. You are too important. I also don't want everyone knowing my business. It's not that I doubt you or don't trust you. I know if you had to you could totally throw off a follower or fight of someone trying to steal your mail. I don't want it to be necessary. I will always choose you first and for most, but at the moment, people are out to get me and thereby you. It's not safe." he cast a furtive look around and cast a privacy ward, "I wouldn't even put it past Dumbledore or whoever is trying to kill me, to put spells on you or try and hurt you to keep track of me. It wouldn't even surprise me if he orchestrated Hagrid giving me you in my first year. I would change it. I'd always choose you. Any day. But I just need to be careful until I can come up with a way to keep you safe and something to let you not be recognised if we don't want it. Okay? I couldn't bear it if you were hurt."

He stroked her back as she nibbled gently on his ear, before ruffling her feathers and shifting on his arm. He carried her closer to the window and lifted his arm so she could glide out of the window into the night to hunt.

He went back to the common room after that. He knew he could study there infant the fire, but he went up to his bed and pulled out his books. While he had spent a lot of time by the fire with Hermione, books spread out all around them on the floor doing homework, it was more comfortable on his bed. It was warm (Winky had charmed it, she drew runes into the posts and charged them with elf magic) and it was quiet. He had done wards. And it also was a bit safe when he got too emersed. There were wards he had cast, proximity alerts, silencing and privacy charms. A stinging hex if he didn't want to be disturbed.

He fell into a routine quickly over the next couple of days. He would go for a run early in the morning with Hermione before breakfast and often snuck out earlier to help Hagrid out in the forest, or in the evening before curfew. Harry and Hermione would join Ron for breakfast in the great hall. Hermione would try to make them talk to each other, it would be awkward and unpleasant. Or she and Harry would quiz each other on the reading for class from the night before and revise ahead. At lunch, Harry would often sneak off to the Room of Requirement. It was easier eating lunch up there away from prying eyes, where winky could give him a full meal, as opposed to smuggling snakes into his bag or pockets between classes. Sometimes Hermione joined him up there for lunch, sometimes she had lunch with Ron in the great hall. Homework often was done straight after class, though sometimes he stayed with Hagrid depending on what animals he was working with that afternoon. Harry and Hermione would have dinner in the great hall with Ron. It was often strained. Then they would go to the Room of Requirement to finish homework and study for the tournament. He had started going through old tournament tasks and using them as practise tests. They would work out how they would have solved one, and prepared the spells accordingly. It wasn't much but it might come in handy. It was scary, but also fascinating, and he was amazed at how much he was learning. Harry had started frantically going over every defence spell he could get his hands on. It was slow going, the more above his grade he went the longer it took him to master them. The flameproofing spells were especially difficult. They had started looking at them when in revising old task, they kept coming across fire elemental creatures, Firecrabs, Ifrit's, Kitsunes, Thunderbirds, a Hellhound and a Cherufe (though how they imported that one all the way from Chile he didn't know). Flameproofing spells seemed a sensible thing to learn after that. They were however notoriously fickle and hard to rely on. It was much better to wear flame-resistant clothes or inscribe thins with runic arrays. But who knows it may not be the first task. They went back to the common room at curfew and do individual reading they'd set themselves. They'd tell each other about the next morning on their run. When not doing homework they started moving on to more advanced spells.

They hadn't forgotten Occlumency though. They continued to practice in the evenings, often in the privacy of the Room of Requirement. Harry was much better at clearing his mind than Hermione, but he was having a lot more trouble getting a feel for his magic.

They had carefully started tentatively practising Legilimancy on each other so they had something to practice Occlumency on. It was difficult and felt strongly intimate, but neither of them had managed to slip into the other's mind. They weren't sure if that was their lack of prowess at the spell or the ability at Occlumency. Harry thought he had felt heroines magic once though. They had both been meditating, holding hands. Harry had as normal, tried to sink deep into himself, to find his magic, but all he could feel inside was a tangled black knot. Writhing. Hermione helped him through some of the exercises, and he can actually feel something in his fingertips as if he was holding his wand. It was amazing. It feels odd though. But the more he pushes the further away it seems. All knotted inside. When Hermione suggested trying Legilimence on her, so he can feel hers, he was hesitant. Neither of them was sure how good they were at Occlumency, and it felt horribly intimate, he didn't want to invade her privacy. But she was his best friend, he trusted her, and she him. So he took her up on her offer, trusting that she wouldn't have suggested it if she hadn't been okay with it.

It's a strange spell. Looking straight into Hermione's eyes, and casting the spell, willing his mind, his magic to touch hers. He doesn't expect it to work the first time. Not when he can hardly feel his own magic and any attempt he made at feeling or controlling over the amount of magic he used was more a fluke that fineness. He could do magic, there was no doubt about it, but he couldn't feel it inside him, just a tingle in his fingers when he did a spell and a strange power inside that he's subconsciously aware of but slips away whenever he tries to focus on it inside him.

But he managed it, he slipped into her mind and it was odd.

The book was right the human mind is complex and not at all like a book to be perused at will. It was horribly intimate and he could feel Hermione; what she's feeling, the slight chill of her skin from not having a jumper on, her slight anxiety about what they're doing, her burning conviction. He caught flashes of images, thoughts and words, memories. But she seems to draw him in, down and suddenly he's surrounded by fire. It's hot but not threatening. It's warm and he can feel her revel in it. That was her magic. That's what it felt like, to feel it inside you. It's alive and part of her and singing in every cell of her being, louder and brighter than any external magic he had ever felt. It's like home, and safety and family all at once and it's wonderous.

He pulled away, hiding his eyes. He'd never felt anything like it before. Never felt home, or safety, or warmth like he did when he felt what she did with her magic. It left him aching and lonely and he wondered if that was what family felt like if that was what people found when they had religion and a god, something bigger than them to believe in, to be certain of.

Hermione didn't touch him, knowing that more than ever, at that moment, he wouldn't have coped. She sat close though and humped softly, under her breath. It was a bit soothing but doesn't east the painful ache in his chest, the emptiness in his soul. now he's tasted it, he suddenly understands how wrong he felt inside.

"Is it always like that?" He asked hoarsely.

She nodded, "I wasn't always aware of it at first, but yes, it's always been there. Everyone with magic feels something like that."

"Everyone has that?"

"Yes, Harry your's felt..." She trailed off tears in her eyes now.

"It's like it's blocked..." He trailed, "the books didn't talk about it, but I think someones tied it up, shut it away, bound it, made it all messy and tangled and sick inside. I can use it but not feel it, control it or really channel it. I can feel other magic, but not my own. Most people don't still have accidental magic but I do. I think it's a miracle I can do anything at all, not being able to feel it. It felt so..." He trailed off pressing a hand to his mouth to stop whatever embarrassingly raw painful sound was trying to escape.

He hunched in on himself. A soundless howl of agony escaping him before he can catch it, quench it.

Magic, it had felt so... so warm, so whole. Gods, he'd never felt anything like it. Never felt so whole, so complete like that. And yet, he hadn't, it wasn't him, it wasn't his magic. It was her's, it was but an echo of what it really felt like, what it would feel like if he'd truly had it. He hadn't known how right it could feel inside or how wrong, he realised, he felt inside by comparison. Gods he felt so alone. So empty and cold. So painfully empty and cold and wounded, and everything felt wrong and it was never going to end! He moaned, rocking back and forth slowly, his hands pressed over his mouth hiding the silent scream that his mouth contorted into.

He hated her then. In that moment, as tears slid down his cheeks unbidden, faster than he had ever thought possible; in that fleeting moment, he hated her. He hated her for showing him what he didn't have. For showing him what was broken inside. For showing him what he was missing, and what being whole felt like. Because until that moment he hadn't been aware of how much it hurt. Now he could feel his soul crying out in pain and anger at how wrong it all was inside. He was so empty. And so cold. It was agony. He'd always been lonely, so lonely, he had always been alone. But he had caught a shadow of what warmth and safety felt like. What love felt like. What home felt like. And now he knew, he ached for it. he ached to feel whole and alive inside. But it was out of reach. He felt like he'd never be able to find it, not warmth, not safety not that warmth of having something bright and special inside that meant he'd never be alone.

And he hated her for that. For taking the bliss of ignorance away.

But it wasn't her fault, he reminded himself, mentally yanking himself out of the spiral of despair. He'd figure it out. He wiped his eyes furiously but they would stop leaking everywhere, he thought furiously. The tears just kept pouring out of him. He would figure out what was wrong, he'd fix it and if he ever found out, who had done this to him, he would tear their world apart. He would tear them down and laugh while their world burned like his was, like his did. May the Gods have mercy upon their soul for he shall have none.

A blanket appeared around his shoulders. He flinched violently but pulled it tighter. It was warm. Wink must have done it. It thawed something painful and frosty inside, and he bit down hard on his fist to stop another sob, as the small kindest seemed to hurt. Dobby handed him a cup. It spelt of chamomile. He sipped. It was soothing and he felt his eyes slipping shut, sleep pulling him, even as he cried.

He slept.

**Notes:**

Trigger Warning:

Harry has an emotional melt down.

References to past abuse - reference to his aunt and uncle, it eludes to the ways that they have abused him (emotional and physical abuse)

Don't think I'm bashing Hermione in this chapter, with her dismissal of Harry. She's very logical and believes in books and things she can see. If it's not in a book, logical or something she has proof of she's a skeptic. This was in the books too in how she treats luna.


	9. Chapter 9 Letters and Revelations

Notes:

The good news is I am a few chapters ahead, so I have some wiggle room if like gets challenging, so posts should be regularly once a week.

Bad news is I'm not giving you an extra one today (sorry-not-sorry:P)

Happy reading.

...

He woke up feeling considerably calmer. It still hurt, sleeping hadn't changed anything, but he felt a bit less like he was drowning under the weight of it all.

"You okay?" Hermione asked worriedly.

He nodded not feeling brave enough to say anything yet.

"That was..." Hermione trailed,

"I know... oddly intimate, I feel like I was intruding..." Harry continued.

"Me too... your magic through..."

Harry nodded, squeezing his eyes shut briefly, "feels fucking wrong? If yours is what it's meant to be like?"

She nodded.

"Nothings ever simple is it?"

"so theirs something wrong with it. Like it's tied up. It's all wrong, it's so wrong Hermione..." He stopped taking a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

It did remind him though, of the conversation they had had down by the kitchens about someone possibly controlling them with magic. They had started working on protecting themselves from future attempts now. They had spent the previous Wednesday night pouring over books in the Room of Requirement looking up the diagnostics spells. They practised casting them on each other, trying to figure out if anything was wrong with them. It was not exactly healing magic, but it's not normal either. It was like channelling their own magic, through their wand into another, like Legilimancy. They were not very good at it yet. It required more finesse than either of them really had yet, the spells were well above Fourth Year level. Harry and Hermione's cores not yet matured enough for the level of finesse and control. But they did manage a general diagnostic and learnt that yes, something was wrong. There were spells and potions on them and Harry's diagnostic was so muddled and confusing that they knew that whatever it was, it was big. Things were starting to click into place now, Harry thought. And it was not painting a pretty picture. They needed a more advanced diagnostic to work it all out though, so they could work on undoing whatever had been done to them. They hadn't mastered it yet, but they had started learning low-level protection wards and charms. Harry had started making runic bracelets too. He'd been trying to use different runic arrayed, carved into leather bands, coupled with some potions and spells, to help protect them from future manipulative magic. It wasn't finished yet, and the Arithmancy to combine all the aspects was proving devilishly difficult. He hadn't even tried activating the Runes yet, worried he had calculated something wrong and it would blow up in his face. But it was something, and he was making progress on it. it would be dead useful if he got it right.

"Come on," Hermione said, breaking him out of his thoughts, "let's go back to the tower, I'm knacked."

He woke early the next morning not feeling at all rested, his sleep having been plagued be the feel of Hermione's magic, and disown being snatched away from him.

Hedwig was perched on donna covered feet when he woke. He blinked owlishly at her and wondering how she'd flown through his hangings. She gazed at him. He blinked and put his glasses on. She came into slightly less blurred focus. she had letters clutched to her beak. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and took the letters from her, pulling out an owl treat for her from his trunk.

Harry opened Sirius's letter first.

"Harry

I can't say everything I would like to in a letter, it's too risky in case the owl is intercepted - we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o'clock in the morning on the 22nd of November?

I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself and while you're around Dumbledore and Moody I don't think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore's nose. They must be very clever to outsmart Dumbledore. Be on the lookout, be on your guard.

I've sent an owl to Dumbledore. He has no idea who did it and has tried everything he can to get you out of the tournament. He'll keep an eye out for whoever entered you. Don't worry, he'll make sure your safe."

Harry snorted derisively and had to stop himself from crumpling the letter in anger. More Dumbledore. Everything went back to him, didn't it.

"I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can.

Sirius"

His relief at being able to talk to Sirius was drowned out by anger at his godfather and at Dumbledore. Not only should Sirius not be back in the country. He didn't want his only remaining family getting caught because of him. Plus did he really need to go blabbing to Dumbledore again? He had written to his godfather, not Dumbledore, but his godfather had gone and written to Dumbledore before saying anything to Harry. He hadn't even asked his permission first, before blabbing to the headmaster. Just like over the summer.

And, since when had Dumbledore ever kept him safe? The door to the third-floor corridor back in his First Year had been locked with a simple First Year spell for Christ's sake. First years had stumbled apron it and managed to get through all the traps. Dumbledore certainly hadn't kept him safe from the rest of the school shunning him, hexing him. Not back in his Second Year, and not now. None of the adults who were meant to be keeping him safe had ever stepped in when the student body turned on him.

Harry remembered how angry he'd been over the summer too when he'd gotten Sirius's reply. That too had talked all about Dumbledore.

"Harry" it had started.

"I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumours that have reached me here. Dumbledore agrees with me that your scare hurting after a dream like that is very worrying, he's as worried about it as I am. If it hurts again, goes straight to him. He says he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement. He's reading the signs, even if no one else is.

I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry.

Sirius"

He had felt a bit betrayed then too. He let out a huff of frustration. He was sure Sirius had meant well, but... He shoved Sirius's letter into his trunk, and into the small box he kept all the letters he received in.

It all came back to Dumbledore. Dumbledore had paced him at the Dursley's and had kept him there. Never checking on him, never listening when Harry begged not to be sent back. Dumbledore had sent Hagrid to get him and possibly manipulated things to keep Harry ignorant. Dumbledore had given Hagrid Harry's vault key? How did he get it? He had forced the House Elves, to keep Harry on a diet, to keep him skinny and weak. Was it Dumbledore behind Madam Pomfrey suddenly forgetting about his checkup and shots back in his first year? Surely if she was as good a Mediwitch as everyone claimed, she would have noticed something wrong with Harry? She should have noticed the Abuse. But she didn't.

Then there was the fact that Dumbledore told the whole school about the third-floor corridor back in his First Year, which was practically asking for trouble. He then hadn't even bothered to ward it, an age line would have been perfect. But he didn't. All the clues had fallen into Harry's lap, and somehow Harry had thrown all caution to the wind and went tearing after it, not thought to his own safety. He never would have poked is nose into trouble like that before Hogwarts, at the Dursley's it would have ended up with a hiding, and being locked in the cupboard with no food for days. That wasn't like Harry at all. It was so stupid.

And 12-year-olds had solved the mystery of the chamber of secrets, what was in it, and how to get in. How could Dumbledore not have known? He'd been aware of it for 50 years. He lived in the Castle. How had he not found out? And, how had he not known a powerfully evil object has been in the school. Surely the wards would have told him? Had he really known and done nothing? With everything Harry was starting to see, he would put it past the manipulating old nut. But why? Was it a test for Harry? What was he aiming for? And then there were all the signs on spells and potions on Harry that the Headmaster would have had a chance to place.

The Headmaster seemed to have fingers in every part of Harry's life, and not at all in a good way. Harry shivered. how on earth was he going to untangle himself from Dumbledore and keep himself safe? Everyone looked up to Dumbledore, he had a lot of power. And what was Harry? A nobody. With no family or adult to have his back, and no one to stand up for him against powerful malicious adults.

He shivered, pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders and tore Bill's letter open, hoping desperately for some good news, advice, anything.

He was disappointed. It talked about day to day, non-confidential things at the bank and how his trip back to Egypt went. He'd even asked if Harry had had a chance to try out that spell he'd shown him over the summer. Nothing important.

Harry enjoyed it anyway, he liked talking to Bill, but he had really been hoping he would have left some sort of advice.

Wait a minute, he thought.

Bill had shown him and Charlie a nifty Egyptian spell that hid a message behind another. A few hard to pronounce Egyptian words would cause the message you wanted to hide, to sink into another bit of parchment, and could only be revealed with the correct counter-charm, that was equally difficult to pronounce and almost unheard of in most English speaking circles. Once the message was hidden, you then wrote a carefree decoy letter over the top. The counter charm would swap them over, and reveal the true letter. He'd been so excited to try it out when Bill had first shown him and Charlie.

Harry hurriedly pulled out his wand and started tracing it over the letter in the complex letter-lock counter-charm. He grinned as the writing faded out then back in to reveal an altogether different letter:

"Harry

That's very odd and very worrying. Especially considering you're being forced to compete. Your guardian should have stepped in and stopped it, you're a Minor. You can't agree to magical contracts like that without guardian permission. Especially as the age requirements, were woven into the goblets settings. At the very least a vow or oath of some kind should have gotten you out of it, you should not have, in any way, been made to compete. Very odd, that no one did. I'm fishing around Gringotts for a copy of the contract, hopefully, that will shed some light on what's going on. I'll need you to authorise me to act in your stead in Gringotts though. The Goblins normal only give out copies of contracts to the person, or their guardian if they're a minor, and they take privacy and confidentiality very seriously. I don't know who your magical guardian is, so I can't ask them. (You should ask them to show you their copy, they would have gotten one.) As I said before most contracts would have needed your guardian's permission to bind out you to one... or at least have you compete in one. If you sign the form enclosed, the Goblins will let me have access to your account details and talk to your account manager for you. They may be able to help you out. Your family was very wealthy and they like to help the clients who make them rich. (Crude but true, goblin culture is different from ours. It revolves around gold and blood, they're a warrior race)

I can grab a copy of the contract for you, once you've signed the form. We'll figure it out, Harry, I promise.

Also, I don't know if you've ever seen a form like this before, but in layman's terms, basically, it lets me act as your voice and representative in the bank, similar to your guardian but with less authority over your gold. This lets the Goblins tell me what I need to know to help you sort out your accounts, and ask questions in your stead. I promise I won't abuse your trust, Harry. But it's the only way for me to get the contract for you without know who your guardian is. I'm guessing yours don't know either or they would have least looked at it with you, it's terribly negligent of them... anyway, if you sign the form, it will automatically go straight to Gringotts, but it will leave you (and me) a copy of it, for our records.

Sorry about Ron, he's being a jealous prat, he'll get over it eventually, he always does.

Hang in there, we'll sort this out.

Bill"

A wave of relief flowed through him. The relief he thought Sirius's letter should have brought. and didn't that say something about Sirius? But Bill's letter had almost raised more questions than it had answered. What guardian? As far as he knew Petunia had never even been to the banks, and if she'd gotten a copy of the contract (why would she bother) she would have burned it sooner than sitting him down and explaining it. Though if someone actually needed a guardian's permission to enter him, he thought angrily, she certainly would have given it, if it meant him dying. They would love to get rid of him.

And what vow or oath. He had said he hadn't done it, why hadn't that been enough? Did that mean to say his guardian, whoever it was, could have gotten him out of it? And if they didn't why not? What were they trying to gain in making Harry compete in a tournament that would kill him? That someone else entered him in to try and kill him. Unless it was his guardian who entered him, who wanted him dead. Gods! How many people were out to get him!

He hoped some of the introduction books would explain it, he was very confused. The more he read the more he realised he didn't know. He wasn't too sure which book would cover contracts and vows though.

He sighed and signed the form Bill had sent him. It glowed gold before flashing away, leaving him a grey copy of it. He recast the letter-lock charm on it stowed it in his trunk.

Charlie's letter was the same as Bill's, in that it talked about day to day innocuous things. It just talked briefly about a game of pick up Quidditch they'd held on the reserve, nattered on about schedules being changed around and how he was working to a different part of the reserve now.

Harry repeated the counter-charm he had used on Bills letter. The text changed, to reveal:

"Harry.

Hang in there mate, officially I can't say anything. You'll be seeing me this year though. (Read between the lines and burn this letter once you read it, I'll lose my job if anyone finds out I've even said that much. Before you feel bad, while I love my job I care about you too. So it's worth the risk. I'd hate for something to happen to you when I could have helped. So don't feel guilty Harry, I know you will.)

I can't believe (well I can and that sucks) that you were entered into the tournament. You'll have to be very careful. I'd start going over the advanced defence against the dark arts and care of magical creatures (if you catch my drift, again burn this letter)

I don't know much about magical contracts other than the usual, and I don't know what kind they used. Bill may be able to find out for you though. See if you can find out what kind of contract it is and if you can get a hold of it. (Again Bill may be able to help if you can't ask your Magical Guardian. Bill's better at contracts than I am. He deals with them loads at Gringotts. Check exactly what the contract says though, then you might be able to find a loophole to exploit or maybe just focus on surviving and not winning.)

I'll do some looking for you and send you a list of book recommendations in my next letter. But I'm not big on reading, I'm more of a doing person, but you'll want to look at the book I'm going to send you later tonight, when I get back to my cabin (I'm on lunch break at the moment, out in one of the back fields) I know some good ones on dragons you might like (again please burn the letter)

Charlie"

Again, contracts and magical guardians. Wait... What!?

Harry re-read the letter. Charlie worked with dragons. Charlie was coming to Hogwarts this year. Probably with work. He would lose his job if anyone found out he'd told Harry that, no one was meant to know. He would be coming to Hogwarts with work. Dragons. By the Gods, one of the tasks was dragons. He was glad he was sitting down or he thought he would have fallen over. Dragons, he had to face a dragon. Norberta had been hard to handle and she had been a hatchling. Gods he was going to die, be burnt alive, and leave only a pile of soldering bones.

If only it was a snake or something, that he had to deal with. He could just ask it nicely. Although dragons were reptiles, maybe they were related and could speak Parseltongue too? Or maybe dragons used a something similar, like a Dialect. That may work. If Charlie was bringing dragons, maybe he could sneak down beforehand and test it out. That was an idea. He would need back up plans but that was a start. He'd need to look into different breeds, maybe Charlie could hint which ones were being brought. He'd been to look into fire protection, and what could slow it down or subdue it. Maybe that fire potion that Snape had used to protect the Philosopher's stone. Potions may be slightly more reliable than fireproofing charms. That or something to let him be quicker. Outrunning Dudley had always worked but he didn't think he could outrun a dragon, and they could fly.

Fly. He could fly. He was good at flying. He liked flying. He could probably out fly a dragon. He'd have to practise, maybe get Fred and George to put him through his paces with some bludgers. He could probably persuade Madam Hooch to let him use some of the practice ones. He could probably get Dobby to charm some for him, like the cursed bludger from his second year. That would be good practice for escaping a dragon and fire. He'd have to figure out how to get his broom to the task though... He only had his wand when he went in... But that wasn't to say he couldn't summon it. They were doing summoning charms at the moment. He could summon his broom and use that to get past the dragon if talking didn't work. He'd have to look into fireproofing his broom though. Maybe coating it in a potion? Or maybe there were some Runes, he could add. But this was a start. A good one. He had to work on summoning charms, he'd actually struggled with it the last lesson, he'd been so distracted. But it was doable. It was a plan. He could work with that.

He paused long enough to crumble Charlie's letter up, incinerate it with a flick of his wand and vanish the ash before he got up going down the common room with Hedwig. He had some time yet, to write back to them, before his run.

"Sirius,

I'll be there and I'll make sure the common room is clear. Please stay safe, I would hate it if anything happened to you because of me. You really needn't have come back here just for me. It's not worth you getting caught and locked up again.

Schools crappy at the moment, they all believe I did it, and have taken to hexing me in the corridors, do you know any food wards or any sort of shield spell I can cast and wear? I've taken to using the cloak between classes. That ever happen to you at school?

Harry

PS - I was writing to you, not Dumbledore. It was the same with over the summer, would you mind not tell him every time I write to you? You're my godfather not him, it's your advice that I'm after."

He didn't want to piss Sirius off, he didn't want his only family angry with him or abandoning him, but he couldn't not say anything.

He wrote to Bill next.

"Bill,

Thank you so much! I'm really grateful for your help, though your letter honestly raised more questions than it answered. But thank you for looking into the contract. I signed the form. Don't worry I trust you, you've been really kind to me, and honest.

You probably know by now that I was raised muggle. Problem was, I didn't get the introduction pack, I didn't even know it existed. Hermione only just lent me her set. So I don't really know anything about anything yet. I'm working on it, but I didn't know (still don't haven't got that far yet) about contracts, or vows or magical guardians. So if there was a way to get out of it with a vow, I didn't know. I would have taken it, I swear. As far as I know, I only have my Muggle Aunt as a guardian. Petunia has never even been to our bank, and if she'd have gotten a copy of the contract (why would she bother?) she would have burned it sooner than sitting me down and explaining it. I didn't know it existed before I got my Hogwarts letter. She didn't tell me anything. Though if someone actually needed guardian permutation, she would probably have given it if it meant me dying. They would love to get rid of me. She hates my guts. It's why I went into the wizarding world so ignorant. If I need a wizard guardian though or have one, I have no idea who it is. McGonagall might know though. I'll ask. I didn't know I'd need a magic one, and if I have one, they've never introduced themselves. With all the times I've nearly been killed at Hogwarts if he is aware of me, he's not going a great job. He probably does not have my best interests at heart, if my Hogwarts experience so far is anything to go by.

Really, thank you for agreeing to look into it. I'm still trying to find my feet here, and need all the help I can get. The more I study the more I realise I don't know, I'm pretty out of my depth still. (Working on it though.) If contracts are the goblins area, I would greatly appreciate any help either of you can offer me.

Also what the hell is an account manager? I don't have one as far as I know. I've only got my trust vault and there's not enough in it to bother having an account manager for... (Sorry, that was rude of me.) All I know is Dumbledore's had by key before I got my letter. He gave it to Hagrid back in my first year when he asked Hagrid to get make sure I got my letter and take me shopping. Griphook took me to my vault. All Hagrid said was that it was what my parents had left me and if I was careful and didn't spend anything unless I really needed it, it should last through school and maybe long enough to get a job. And I have been really careful, my aunt and uncle certainly won't pay to make sure I'm okay. I have been careful where ever I can, but I don't think it will stretch to the Muggleborn intro books there are loads of them. Hermione also said there was a further reading list as well. Anything you can tell me about my account/manager etc would be greatly appreciated. Do the goblins do bank statements or anything? I'm working through the books, so I should be a bit better informed then. Hopefully, I'll be able to get my head around it.

Sorry, it's a bit rambly,

Thank you so much

Harry"

Taking a sip from the hot breakfast smoothy, Winky had popped in with, he was about to start Charlie's letter, when there was a tap on the window. He got up to let the owl in. It was a tired looking barn owl, holding a square package.

Freeing the owl of its burden he offered it an arm to perch on, but it soared right back out the window. He opened the package and took out the letter that was sitting on top of a thick, well worn leather-bound book.

"Harry,

Please don't let anyone know you have this book. No one, not even Ron and Hermione (I know you're not talking to Ron at the moment, he's being a prat, I'm really sorry. He'll get over it eventually, he always does.)

This is the book I used to study and take notes in over the course of my training here at the Sanctuary for my Masteries. There are notes for a Care of Magical Creatures and Dragon Keeping. It's only available to those who have an apprenticeship in the field. While it's not illegal for you to be seeing it. It's highly frowned on, and we'll both get in trouble, so keep it secret, please. I've charmed the cover to just be plain dragonhide. Please take good care of it, I know you will, but it's pretty special to me. It should help you prepare for you-know-what. (Burn this letter too.)

I know most of the dragon books in the library are breading them and laws. They won't help you much. I can't tell you what breeds we're bringing because now that we need a fourth, we need to reevaluate who we're bringing. I'll hint at it when I can. But know they won't be any breeds not in this book.

Take care, hang in there. Owl me anytime, questions you have, or even if you just want to vent, I mean it, anything at all.

Charlie."

Harry burnt the letter, his throat aching. They were being so nice to him. He really didn't deserve it. He didn't open the book now though. He desperately wanted to but put it carefully in his trunk under his invisibility cloak, before noting a quick reply.

"Charlie,

Thank you. I'll take good care of it, I promise! I-

Thank you.

Just thank you.

Harry"

Harry looked up as Hedwig hopped over to him across the doona and clicked her beak at the letters, and held out her leg.

"You know I can't send you," Harry sighed, "I want to, you know that. You're the best, but you're also my only family, I would hate for anything to happen to you because they wanted to creep on me. I'll work something out, some sort of charm or rune scheme to keep you safe and noticed when it's necessary. Okay?"

She held out her leg again.

"Hedwig, I can't," he moaned, his heartbreaking for her.

She snapped her beak and looked at him as if he was an idiot.

He paused at that, thinking for a moment, "What? You're want to take them to the owlery for me?"

Hedwig hooted as if to say, "well obviously who else is going to pick suitable stand-in for me?"

"You're the best"

She nuzzled his cheek. He sighed in relief he was forgiven and handed her the letters.

"I know it sucks, but I'm glad you understand. I know you'll pick good choices. Join me for breakfast? There'll be bacon?"

She hooted again fondly, took his letters in her beak and glided back out the window.

"I got a reply from Charlie, Bill and Sirius!" He told Hermione as they ran around the edge of the forest a short while later.

"Brilliant, what did they say?" She asked.

"Bill's looking into the contract for me, he is puzzled that I was forced to compete, apparently most contracts would have needed mine or my magical guardian's permission. Does one of the books in the intro pack cover magical guardians and contracts? I haven't finished them yet"

"Contracts, yes," she explained, "'Gringotts: A Goblin written guide to help idiot wizards get it right or at least less wrong...' I enjoyed the title of that... goes into it, but vows I thought were in the 'Magic's Real.' Maybe it is the etiquette one though, it's probably considered a tradition or something. Guardians are also in that one but they're basically the same as normal guardians but look after your best interests in the magical world. McGonagall is the magical guardian of all the Gryffindor muggleborns. she also acts in loco parentis for the other Gryffindors if needed too though. She might know your guardian."

"Great I'll read those ones tonight. Yeah, I'll ask her later on."

"What did Charlie say?"

He looked around hastily and cast a silencing charm around them.

"Dragons! One of the tasks is dragons!"

"Oh my gosh. They wouldn't!" She exclaimed.

"They would. Really," Harry said drolly, "they used a Cerberus in our first year, that was only hidden by a first-year unlocking spell. That's after they told everyone where it was. It was practically asking for someone to pock around and get killed. Anyway, remember on the platform in September? Charlie said he may see us sooner than we thought. That's what he meant! He knew then what was happening and that dragons would bring him to Hogwarts for one of the tasks."

"What are we going to do?" She squeaked horrified

"Well there are dragon books in the library, and Charlie said he'd send me a book," Harry hedged, deciding it was better not to tell her he had a super-interesting book, that he couldn't let her read. He had too many other seemingly impossible things to deal with right now, he didn't want to add an argument with the only persons still talking to him, to the list.

"I figured I'd just try talking to it though." He continued, "they might have a similar dialect, or just speak snake language, they're related after all. They'd probably be there before the task. I can sneak out and test it beforehand. Or I can try outflying it. I'll look up some more fireproofing spells, and see if there is an adaption of the flame-freezing spell that works on Dragon fire. There is also that fireproof potion Snape used in his riddle to protect the stone. We're learning summoning charms at the moment. I was too distracted last the other day to get it right, but with a bit more practice I should be to summon my broom from the tower, as long as I leave the window open. Or I could probably leave it nearby, depending on where the task is held."

"Wow, you have it all planned out, well done!" She said looking very pleased, "we'd best get to work on our fireproofing then."

"Just as well I've already started the spells," he said.


	10. Chapter 10 Lily

Studying was just about the only thing that kept Harry going over the next day or two. There were so many things in his life right now that were out of his control or things he was discovered to be downright terrifying that it better to focus on books and learning. Better to knuckle down and to study harder than he had ever studied before as opposed to panicking about things he couldn't control. Or panicking about the things he didn't like when he was already working on changing them. Such as how much he should but didn't know because people had kept it from him. He was loving it though. Reading kept him busy and distracted but it was also so empowering learning and stimulating his break and not holding back anymore. He'd forgotten how much he had enjoyed it, to just read and immerse himself in the world of books and learning, and not having to hide it. He had forgotten how liberating it was to let himself be smart. To embrace it.

He spent most of his time jumping between studying old tasks and preparing for them, preparing for the dragon and studying ahead. He was practising fireproof charms and fireproofing his robes. He knew it could be done. He knew Madam Malkin's sold potions masters robes that had a range of magic on them to protect against various explosions and substances. He was using Arithmancy to work out how he could use both Runes, spells and a flame roof potion on his robes to hopefully help protect him in the task. The rune side was okay, he knew which Runes would be helpful but there were so many to combine and such a large area to work with, he was thinking he may have to look into sigil magic, which was a little bit more flexible, but just as complex in its own way. Then there was the Arithmancy itself he needed to use to make sure he could combine all the elements properly and in its most effective manner. It was proving challenging, but he was relishing the cool logic of the maths, especially when everything else seemed too abstract. As for the Flameproof potion, there were several, but none specifically for dragon fire. It was rather frustrating.

Harry also perfected the summoning charm. If he was going to face a dragon, he wanted to be able to summon the means to escape it and outfly it. Without any distractions or people trying to surreptitiously hex him, he got it on his first try. He even asked the room for a very long space so he could practice summoning things over long distances. It came up with a long thin hall about twice the length of the great hall, and after a couple of goes, Harry could summon the book he'd been using as practice all the way across the room.

He also worked more on basic wards and other protection spells to help him against both Dumbledore and whoever was trying to kill him. He didn't know enough yet to do proper wards, not like what Bill worked with. Warding took more than just skills in Runes and Arithmancy, it also needed quite a lot of finesse he was coming to learn. Finesse Harry just didn't have, not when he couldn't feel and control the amount of magic he used. It had blown up in his face a few times already when he wasn't careful. But he was learning and had mastered some of the basic ones. And he was getting better at automatically throwing up a shield spell when he thought he felt anything behind him. He was getting better at it and could now shield his back, and dodge out of the way when people tried to hex him in the back. Only the older students were getting him now, he'd managed to block or dodge any hex from his year and younger all week. Though he was getting increasingly jumpier as the days went past, with people hexing him without any warning. He was starting to jump and draw his wand at any sudden movement or noise. It was exhausting being aware and vigilant all the time. He was starting to feel as paranoid as moody. Moody had the right idea though with constant vigilance. Of course, it wasn't paranoia when there really were people out to get you.

He'd started studying ahead, trying to cram as much from his borrowed copy of the 5th, 6th & 7th-year textbooks as he could. It was harder working on the more advanced spells though, at it took a lot more time. But it was fun too. It was more tiring and took a lot more concentration. It was nice to have to work for it. He hadn't managed to get them silently but he could cast them softly, without having to shout. He'd even managed to practice the Switching spell from transfiguration after dinner. Winky had got him some eggs from the Kitchens and he had practised transfiguring rocks and things to switch out with a real egg, in case he had to use that idea in the task.

Now that he had stopped holding back in class though, his marks had soared. Between no longer holding back and now understanding the material, things were coming quicker and easier. He had even started getting O's on his homework and answering questions in class, to Hermione's pleasure and mock competitiveness. It was a huge release to be able to just focus on doing well in class. He still held back in his spellcasting a bit, not wanting to stand out too much, and he did keep trying discreetly to keep working on silent casting.

The change in his work ethic was being noticed though. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased, offended or worried. He didn't really want the extra attention, it was bad enough having his peers staring at him all the time, making him jumpy.

Snape had called him a cheat when he had handed back their homework back and gave him detention. Harry had been given a pop-test in the detention and told to brew something from memory. He did okay, not perfect but okay, especially considering he hadn't actually brewed the potion before, just read about it. The fact he had remembered the ingredients and the method, was something Harry was inordinately pleased about. He took great pleasure in Snape's momentary look of surprise.

Professor Flitwick, when Harry raised a hand in class to voluntarily answer a question, had been so surprised he squeaked and fell off his stack of books.

McGonagall gave him a test at lunch on Thursday. Harry just filled it in without a word. When Professor asked about the change he just said, "this thing is going to kill me, I have to do better if I don't want to end up dead. No-one else is going to do anything about it."

She seemed to just look at him a long moment but left it at that.

Professor Moody was one of the few teachers who doesn't care about his improvement along with Binns didn't seem to notice. Which lead Harry to the conclusion that he wasn't actually aware of his students that much at all. He tested that out when he stopped halfway through his homework essay and started writing about Lord of the Rings instead, even going so far as to reference the Silmarillion and the Lord of the Rings appendix in his footnotes. To his incredulity he still got an E, he hands even stayed within the required length, he had ended up 3 inches too long.

So History was put aside as a bust, and not worth paying any attention to. Hermione wasn't pleased, but they had started self-studying. He even wrote to the WEA for the curriculum on their OWL subjects. He'd received quiet the packet, and not just on his subjects either. Turned out there were lots of other OWLs on offer, and the curriculum guides had a whole trove of interesting information that may come in handy. He hadn't had a chance to go into it properly, but he was definitely looking forward to looking into it.

He continued to use earplugs to keep Binns from putting him to sleep, and spent the classes with the textbook, highlighting and annotating the interesting useful bit's and making notes. He also got other texts from the library, to read. It turned out, when Binns wasn't droning on and on about the same 9 goblin rebellions, history was fascinating. He had loved fantasy books as a kid, especially the Lord of the Rings and Silmarillion. This was like that, only better, it had actually happened and was real, his people's stories. Even the goblin rebellions were interesting what it wasn't Binns drowning about them. Honestly, Harry couldn't blame the Goblin for rebelling with the way wizards treated them. He would have too.

Even Professor Sinistra noticed, or more accurately heard about his improvement in his lessons and held him back on after Astronomy on Thursday night.

"I had heard from some of your other teacher's Potter that you had been holding back in class, that you'd improved exponentially. I had hoped the improvement would carry over to my class too," she said sounding a little disapproving.

"Well, Ma'am, the theory yes I've been holding back but the practice of finding stars and drawing the charts not so much ma'am, I really am just terrible at it."

"When was the last time your eyes were examined by an Optiwitch?" She asked seemingly out of nowhere.

"A what?" He said stupidly.

"Your eyes, when were they last checked?"

"Oh... Um..." He said, maybe that was the problem. He'd not thought of that. He'd never once had them checked. But he couldn't say that his glasses were one's Petunia had brought home from a charity bin after a teacher in primary school had complained. They had helped, but not much, he still couldn't see the board in class unless he was in the front row. He was honestly astounded he could actually see the Snitch well enough to play quidditch.

"Yes, oh." She said with disapproval that was coloured by slight amusement, "get them checked next time you're in Hogsmeade. When you have them sorted out, we can reassess where you're at, and have a few remedial sessions to catch you up."

Harry thought it was strangely considerate of her, and beamed.

Flitwick's reaction on Friday morning was perhaps the best though. He pulled Harry aside after morning class. While he questioned Harry, he didn't automatically accuse Harry of cheating. Instead, he actually asked what was going on. It was astounding how reasonable he was about it, adults really were not reasonable beings most of the time, not when it came to him anyway.

"I hate to ask Mr Potter," he had said, "but did Miss Granger assist you with your last essay? It was quite a remarkable improvement and a complete change in writing style. From what I have heard, my class is not the only one you have had a sudden improve in, I was wondering what had prompted the improvement" Professor Flitwick asked gently.

"No sir, I did it on my own," he assured the professor.

"It's remarkably different," his professor congratulated.

"Well sir, Hermione and I had a chat. We have a pretty solid friendship. So I don't need to play stupid to protect our friendship anymore. Hermione prefers someone to challenge her anyway rather than someone playing stupid to stroke her ego. And Ron's not talking to me anyway, so there's no point holding back for his friendship now either. This tournament will kill me if I don't learn as much as I possibly can" Harry said bluntly, not feeling the normal hesitance he did when talking to McGonagall.

Professor Flitwick looked dumbfounded and perhaps even a touch concerned.

"Well I say," he after a moment, "carry on then. Good work Mr Potter. You understand I had to ask, it did look suspicious, but I did wonder if you'd been holding back. Your parents were both very intelligent, especially your mother. She was my favourite you know, one of the top in her year, every year. I expect this level of work in all your essays from now on then, and try to stop holding back on your spell work. I had noticed."

Harry had the decency to blush, "I don't hold you asking against you, Snape and McGonagall have already given me tests to prove I didn't cheat."

"Hmm," he murmured with a slight hint of disapproval, though whether it was at his colleagues' assumption of his cheating, or his lack of honorific in front of his professor's name, Harry wasn't sure.

"I'll work harder now sir, I won't let you down." Harry paused before continuing hesitantly, "Sir, do you think... do you think you could tell me about her sir, my mother? No-one ever talks about her."

"I'd be delighted. If you have a moment, I'll call an elf, and we can have a chat over lunch. I'll tell you all about them."

Tea was Flitwick was both not as awkward as he expected, and brilliant in the fact that he heard all about his mother's sorting. It took ages apparently, a hat-stall, much like his own. Lily had later confided in Flitwick that she'd argued with the hat for Slytherin, but while it wanted her there, it didn't think it was the right time with the growth in the Muggleborn racism. They had a long argument (robust discussion she had called it) about Ravenclaw or Gryffindor.

"She was happy with her house," Flitwick had explained, "but she was disappointed when her best friend was sorted into Slytherin without her, or into Gryffindor with her. They stayed close for a very long time. I might tell you about it one day." Flitwick had said, "at the moment their friendship is not my story to tell,"

"I understand sir," Harry hesitated before he added, "it wanted me in Slytherin too..."

He looked at Flitwick anxiously, he'd never told anyone that.

"Really? I can see some of those traits in you now I think about it, you would make a good Slytherin I think" Professor Flitwick pondered.

Harry blanched.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Flitwick reassured him.

"I argued because..." He trailed off realising something, "Hagrid told me only dark wizards went to Slytherin, like Voldemort, and so did Ron, coupled with meeting Malfoy who said he was going to be a Slytherin. He is too much like my cousin. I don't really want to be dark, I don't want to be evil."

Harry trailed off, wondered now if it was another setup. Surely not all Slytherins could be evil, but Hagrid had pushed it rather hard that it would terrible if Harry had gone into Slytherin. Could that also be one of Dumbledore's manipulations? Maybe it was time for him to nurture some of his cunning and ambition...

"It is a person's actions who make them good or bad." Professor Flitwick said filling up Harry's cup of tea. "The house does not make a person. Nor does being Dark mean evil. I have a book on it if you like? I can lend it to you. Don't forget that Death Eaters have come from other houses too. Just look at Barty Crouch Jr, he was a death eater from my own house."

"Crouch has a son?" Harry asked?

"Had," the professor corrected, "he died, in Azkaban. Not all Slytherins are evil, or even bad, look at Professor Snape. He may not be well liked but he is a good man," Flitwick explained, kindly ignoring Harry's slight look of disagreement at the mention of Snape.

"I guess it's like not all Gryffindors are good?" Harry asked.

"Exactly, there have been many brilliant and noble Slytherins, Merlin was one. Slytherin is not a bad house, just a little different from some of the other houses. They are often very reserved and traditional. Lately, that is frowned on, but they are just like you or I. It is our choices that make us. Not the colour of our robes. But don't forget, dark does not mean evil, magic itself is neither good nor bad, it just is. it is the intent that makes it help or hinder. And just so, Dark is not necessarily evil, the ministry may calm a lot of things, are dark, and therefore evil and have outlawed them, but it is not so. Dark is a little more complex than that. Would you like me to find that book for you?"

"Thank you, Professor, I should have realised that," Harry said, "um if you don't mind I'd like to read it. It sounds interesting."

"Not at all, I'll give it to you next class." Professor Flitwick beamed, "I used to lend your mother books too."

"What did she like?" He asked eagerly.

"Well she loved Charms, I lent her quite a few books on that topic. It was a joy to discuss things with her. She was also quite the potions prodigy, along with her Slytherin friend. She was also very interested in Old magic and the Old ways. Which is frowned on now, but she looked quite heavily into Wizarding traditions, culture and religion. She liked history too, she said it was like muggle fantasy novels, but better as it was her history."

"Yes!" Harry broke in, "it is! It's like reading a story but more alive, it's more..." He trailed off, "it means more because it's ours. We're connected to it."

"Just so," beamed the professor, "She had a love of muggle fantasy novels, she said the ideas were inspiring. She liked Lord of the Rings, the Crucible (despite its dark topic) and an author called Chris D'lacey, a less well-known book about a potter who makes clay dragons. She said she didn't have an artistic bone in her body, but she liked the idea of breathing life into little clay dragons. She liked dragons"

"You knew her well then?" Harry asked

"Yes, your mother may have been a Gryffindor but I was her advisor though her OWLs and NEWTs. She was going to go onto a charms apprenticeship after she graduated if it had not been for the war. She had such a talent for it, I was really looking forward to taking her on as my apprentice, she had a passion for learning, a true joy to teach. She always had a new question on the bottom of her homework or a book review. I used to recommend her reading all the time." Flitwick explained, "Actually I might have something of hers, back in my quarters, I'll have a look and let you know after your next charms class. I may have some old letters and essays of hers. She came over for tea every other Tuesday. I may have some of her old school things. She had packed a trunk and sent it here when she was going to start her apprenticeship. But with the war, I'm not sure what happened to it, I'll have a look for you."

"Thank you, professor, that means a lot,"

"And between you and me Harry," Professor Flitwick said as he walked Harry to the door as the bell for class rang, "about you dying in this tournament, I have no doubt it will be challenging, but I have faith that you'll pull through. I can't help you with it, but I can recommend some books that may help. I'll put some aside for your next lesson. I have a few spare copies of the 5th, 6th and 7th-year textbooks, that should help you catch up too."

"Really? That would be great sir, I appreciate it."

NOTES:

I'd just like to say, I did enjoy writing the bit with Professor Sinistra.

Writing Harry and Flitwick was also fun.

Also a couple of book references in there (i'm a nerd 😊) I know the Fire Within, which is the Chris D'Lacey book mentioned, was not actually released at the time Lily would have read it, it didn't come out till the early 2000's, but we are just ignoring that fact because it suits me better that way


	11. Chapter 11 Rita Skeeter

Notes!

Some detailed trigger warnings at the end.

Enjoy!

However brilliant lunch had been, it was amazing to hear about his mother, even if it was a little bittersweet, it didn't quite make up for the rest of the day. He was exhausted. Constantly dodging hex's; being on the alert, on his guard all the time looking for the next hex, staying up to the early hours of the morning trying to catch up on the reading and practice different protection and warding spells. It left him in a bad mood on the way down to potions that afternoon. Which never boded well.

Double Potions that afternoon was, as always, a horrible experience. Which was a pity, because though it was devilishly confusing, even with the primer, Harry had been looking forward to it when he first came to Hogwarts. It had sounded like the best class, really. But not with Snape breathing down his neck.

The primer hadn't really touched potions much, so there was still a lot there that didn't make sense. He didn't understand why things reacted the way they did. It had explained how to tell the differences between colours and how to properly prepare ingredients. Grinding, crushing and powdering was not the same thing. That had been helpful. Despite Hermione saying, he just had to follow the recipe, like an Arithmancy equation, he thought there was more to it than that. It just felt... He wasn't sure. But even if he followed the steps, they didn't always feel right. He didn't really have the words to explain it, and he didn't know what it was.

Potions could have been a fabulous class, he had enjoyed it almost as much as he had first hoped when he had practised earlier that week on his own in Myrtle's bathroom. But the class... If only it had a different teacher or at least one that didn't hate his guts quite so much. Even having someone he could ask questions, or even just to watch them preparing and brewing would have been fantastic.

Having Slytherins, (and now Ron too) throwing things in his cauldron to get him in trouble didn't help, not when he didn't understand enough to be able to compensate or guard against it. Snape didn't let them cast any spells in the Potions room, it would affect the delicate balance of the magic in the potion with their "dunderheaded, heavy-handedness." These days the class was nothing short of torture. Being shut in a dungeon for an hour and a half with Snape and the Slytherins, all of whom seemed determined to punish Harry as much as possible for daring to become school champion, was about the most unpleasant thing Harry could imagine. He had already struggled through one Friday's double lesson, jumpy as hell, with Hermione sitting next to him intoning "ignore them, ignore them, ignore them" under her breath, and he couldn't see why today should be any better.

When he and Hermione met up at Snape's dungeon after lunch, they found the Slytherins waiting outside, each and every one of them wearing a large badge on the front of his or her robes. For one wild moment, Harry thought they were S.P.E.W. badges - then he saw that they all bore the same message, in luminous red letters that burnt brightly in the dimly lit underground passage:

SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY-

THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!

"Like them, Potter?" said Malfoy loudly as Harry approached. "And this isn't all they do - look!"

He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one, which glowed green:

POTTER STINKS!

The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressed their badges too until the message POTTER STINKS was shining brightly all around Harry. He felt the heat rise in his face and neck.

"Oh very funny," Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls, who were laughing harder than anyone, "really witty."

Ron was standing against the wall with Dean and Seamus. He wasn't laughing, but he wasn't sticking up for Harry either.

"Want one, Granger?" said Malfoy, holding out a badge to Hermione.

"I've got loads. But don't touch my hand now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

Harry clenched his jaw to prevent himself saying or doing something stupid as Hermione said warningly, "Harry!"

"Go on, then, Potter," Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his wand. "Moody's not here to look after you now - do it, if you've got the guts -"

For a split second, they looked into each other's eyes, then, Harry bit down hard on his tongue, and put his wand back in his pocket, tasting blood. He wasn't going to give them more of an excuse to have a go at him.

"Hermione is not a Mudblood," he said with forced calm, "if anyone has dirty blood, it's clearly you. Especially if how poor your treatment of others is anything to judge it by."

"Take that back!" Malfoy yelled.

"No," he said simply, "though I will admit you have a point, Diggory is the real Hogwarts champion. It's good of you to support him, I wouldn't have expected anything so agreeable from you," Harry said, turning to walk away, sick and tired of always fighting with the boy.

He should have known better.

"Densaugeo!" screamed Malfoy, making Harry flinch and duck without even thinking about it.

A jet of light shot from Malfoy's wand and Harry didn't manage to draw his wand to shield before, to his horror, the spell hit Hermione who had been behind him. Hermione, whimpering in panic, clutching her mouth.

"Hermione!" He gasped, hurrying forward. Ron had beat him to it and was dragging Hermione's hand away from her face. It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth - already larger than average - were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, down her chin, panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.

"Finite," Harry intoned, waving his wand at her teeth, then tried again with the stronger, "finite incantatem."

They stopped growing, but he didn't know how to shrink them, "I'm sorry, I don't know-" he started but jumped when he was cut off.

"And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice, Harry spun around, his wand still held tightly in his hand.

Harry's heart sank, just what they needed. Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamoured to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir -"

"I did not!" Harry protested.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!"

"It was Potters fault she was hexed" Malfoy spat.

Ron forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth - she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back.

Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears. She turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight.

Some of the anger Harry had been feeling for days and days, trying to hold it back, seemed to burst through a dam in his chest. It was lucky, perhaps, that both Harry and Ron started shouting at Snape at the same time; lucky their voices echoed so much in the stone corridor, for in the confused din, it was impossible for him to hear exactly what they were calling him. He got the gist, however.

"Let's see," he said, in his silkiest voice. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions."

Harry's ears were ringing, fury and disappointment coursing through him. Disappointment that he hadn't managed to control his temper and stay out of trouble and anger at Snape. The injustice of it made him want to curse Snape into a thousand slimy pieces. He clenched his fists and bit his lip to stop him from saying something dumb. He passed Snape, walked with Ron to the back of the dungeon, and slammed his bag down onto the table. Ron was shaking with anger too - for a moment, it felt as though everything was back to normal between them, but then Ron turned and sat down with Dean and Seamus instead, leaving Harry alone at his table. On the other side of the dungeon, Malfoy turned his back on Snape and pressed his badge, smirking. POTTER STINKS flashed once more across the room.

Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, angrily pulling his things out to take notes. He nearly broke his quill.

"Antidotes!" Spat Snape, looking around at them all, his cold black eyes glittering unpleasantly. "You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will be selecting someone's to test..."

Snape's eyes met Harry's, and Harry knew what was coming. Snape was going to poison him. Harry imagined picking up his cauldron and sprinting to the front of the class, bringing it down on Snape's greasy head-

And then a knock on the dungeon door burst in on Harry's thoughts.

Gods, he thought, he had to learn to control his temper, or it would get him killed. He never would have acted like that at the Dursleys, they would have killed him. What was it about Hogwarts that took away all his self-preservation instincts. What was wrong with him!?

The door opened, Colin Creevey edged into the room, beaming at Harry, and walked up to Snape's desk at the front of the room. Harry had to try very hard not to groan. This could be nothing good.

"Yes?" said Snape curtly.

"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs." Snape stared down his hooked nose at Colin, whose smile faded from his eager face.

"Potter has another hour of Potions to complete," said Snape coldly, and Harry was actually grateful for once, whatever Colin was so excited about needing him for, it couldn't be good.

"He will come upstairs when this class is finished." Snape continued.

Colin went pink.

"Sir - sir, Mr Bagman wants him," he said nervously. "All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs. . ."

"You have got to be kidding me," Harry muttered, unable to stop himself, letting his head drop forward onto the desk with a soft 'thunk'. He would have given anything he owned to have stopped Colin saying those last few words. He chanced half a glance at Ron, but Ron was staring determinedly at the ceiling. Harry's shoulders slumped, a queasy feeling rising in his gut as his chest tightened.

"Very well, very well," Snape snapped, glaring at Harry, "Potter, leave your things here, I want you back down here later to test your antidote."

"Please, sir - he's got to take his things with him," squeaked Colin. "All the champions..."

"Very well!" said Snape. "Potter - take your bag and get out of my sight! I expect you here after dinner to test your antidote. Don't think you will get out of this."

Harry gulped, making a mental note to start carrying a Bezoar with him from now on, swung his bag over his shoulder, got up, and headed for the door. As he walked through the Slytherin desks, POTTER STINKS flashed at him from every direction. He wasn't sure whether to be grateful to be away from Snape or fume that Snape had let him go, but that thought alone gave him enough sense to stop himself from slamming the door on Snape and Colin.

"It's amazing, isn't it, Harry?" said Colin, starting to speak the moment Harry had closed the dungeon door behind him. "You being champion?"

"Shut up, Colin," said Harry snapped as they set off toward the steps into the entrance hall.

"But Harry! Isn't it, though? You're Champion!"

"No, it is not," he said shortly, "what do they want photos for, Colin?" He continued trying to deflect, sick of it all already.

"The Daily Prophet, I think!"

"Great, just great," said Harry sarcastically, "exactly what I need. More publicity."

"I know, right?" Colin cheeped back, obliviously, "Good luck!" He finished when they had reached the right room. Harry knocked on the door and entered with extreme reluctance.

He was in a reasonably small classroom. Most of the desks had been pushed to the back of the room, leaving ample space in the middle. Three of desks, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a witch Harry had never seen before, who was wearing magenta robes. Gods, he thought, he didn't want to be here.

Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Diggory and Fleur were in conversation. Fleur looked a good deal happier than Harry had seen her so far; she kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye.

Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, and bounded forward, making Harry take a hurried step back, clenching his wand, but forced himself not to do anything.

"Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come. Nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment-"

"Wand weighing?" Harry repeated nervously.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," said Bagman. "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photoshoot. This is Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. "She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet..."

"Maybe not that small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes on Harry. Dread pooled in his stomach. He felt sick.

Skeeter's hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jewelled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at Harry. "The youngest champion, you know... to add a bit of colour?"

"What?!" Harry took another hurried step back out of reach of her grabby hands.

"Certainly!" cried Bagman over the top of him, "that is - if Harry has no objection?"

"No! I don't wan-" said Harry.

"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, and in a second has left forward and her scarlet-taloned fingers had Harry's upper arm in a surprisingly vicelike grip as she steered him out of the room again and opening a nearby door.

"Wait, I don't-" but she cut him off.

"We don't want to be in there with all that noise," she said. "Let's see . . . ah, yes, this is nice and cozy."

It was a broom cupboard. Harry stared at her in horror. Suddenly not too sure he remembered how to breathe.

"Come along, dear - that's right - lovely," said Rita Skeeter again, perching herself precariously upon an upturned bucket, and yanking Harry down onto a cardboard box, and closing the door, throwing them into darkness.

Harry swallowed, feeling something cold and sick slowly start to claw at him in his stomach.

"Let's see now. ."

She unsnapped her crocodile-skin handbag and pulled out a handful of candles, which she lit with a wave of her wand and magicked into midair so that they could see what they were doing.

"You won't mind, Harry, if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill? It leaves me free to talk to you normally..."

"A what? I don't want to talk at all!" said Harry dumbly trying to focus on breathing and not hyperventilating. He hated cupboards, he hated people locking him in.

Rita Skeeter's smile widened. Harry counted three gold teeth with a shudder. She reached again into her crocodile bag and drew out a long acid-green quill and a roll of parchment, which she stretched out between them on a crate of Mrs Skower's All- Purpose Magical Mess Remover. She put the tip of the green quill into her mouth, sucked it for a moment with apparent relish, then placed it upright on the parchment, where it stood balanced on its point, quivering slightly.

"Testing... my name is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter."

Harry looked down quickly at the quill. The moment Rita Skeeter had spoken, the green quill had started to scribble, skidding across the parchment:

Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, whose savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations -

"What on earth?" Harry asked, momentarily distracted.

"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, yet again, and she ripped the top piece of parchment off, crumpled it up, and stuffed it into her handbag. Now she leaned toward Harry and said, "Ignore the quill, Harry. So... what made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?"

"I didn't -" Harry snapped getting frustrated, at least it distracted him from being stuck in a too-small cramped cupboard. A cupboard much too much like his own, even the cleaning products smelt the same, despite the magic.

He was distracted by the quill. Even though he wasn't speaking, it was dashing across the parchment, and in its wake, he could make out a new sentence:

An ugly scar, a souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the otherwise charming face of Harry Potter, whose eyes -

"Ignore the quill, Harry," said Rita Skeeter firmly. Reluctantly Harry looked up at her instead. "Now - why did you decide to enter the tournament, Harry?"

"I didn't," said Harry. "I don't know how my name got into the Goblet of Fire. I didn't put it in there."

Rita Skeeter raised one heavily pencilled eyebrow.

"Come now, Harry, there's no need to be scared of getting into trouble. We all know you shouldn't really have entered at all. But don't worry about that. Our readers love a rebel."

"I am not. A. Lier." He bit out, "I didn't enter, I don't know who -"

"How do you feel about the tasks ahead?" She cut him off, "Excited? Nervous?"

"As someone is probably trying to Murder me. Again... so yeah, let's go with nervous," said Harry. His insides squirmed uncomfortably as he spoke. Was the door pressing in on them? It was awfully stuffy. Was it getting smaller? He clenched the hem of his jumper and tried not to look at the walls pressing in on him as he tried to catch a breath.

"Champions have died in the past, haven't they?" said Rita Skeeter briskly. "Have you thought about that at all?"

"I...," he stuttered, getting distracted by the dark walls of the cupboard. He could have sworn they had just moved, inching closer to him. Gods he was going to get swallowed alive by this stupid cupboard she'd trapped him in!

"Of course, you've looked death in the face before, haven't you?" said Rita Skeeter, watching him closely. "How would you say that's affected you?"

The quill whizzed across the parchment between them, back and forward as though it were skating.

"I... Can we...," tried Harry, yet again, Gods he needed to get out of here.

"Do you think that the trauma in your past might have made you keen to prove yourself? To live up to your name? Do you think that perhaps you were tempted to enter the Triwizard Tournament because - "

"I didn't enter," said Harry, starting to feel irritated, despite the panic rising like ice through his insides. He tugged at his collar, struggling to get a breath, pressing a hand to the wall, trying to stop it pressing in on him.

"Can you remember your parents at all?" said Rita Skeeter, talking over him.

"No," he stuttered out, gods he had to get out of here. Please let him out.

"How do you think they'd feel if they knew you were competing in the Triwizard Tournament? Proud? Worried? Angry?"

A spike of annoyance penetrated the fog of his mind. How on earth was he to know how his parents would feel if they were alive? He could feel Rita Skeeter watching him very intently. Gods were they running out of air. He looked around frantically for a way out, avoiding her gaze and caught the words the quill had just written:

Tears fill those startlingly green eyes as our conversation turns to the parents he can barely remember.

"I do NOT!" Gasped Harry, struggling to breathe through the rising panic "leave me alone...let me out! Let me out!" He made a grab for the door, a wall anything, snagging the paper, as he overbalanced and toppled off his box, hitting his head on a shelf of buckets with a clatter that made him jump and throw a hand over his head.

Before Rita Skeeter could do anything, the door of the broom cupboard was pulled open. Harry looked around, blinking in the bright light. Albus Dumbledore stood there, looking down at both of them, squashed into the cupboard.

"Dumbledore!" cried Rita Skeeter, with every appearance of delight.

Harry scrambled out of the cupboard, frantically grabbing at the mess of cleaning products in his hurry to get out. Skeeter, glared at him as she vanished the quill into her bag. Gasping and hating himself for the persistent weakness Harry swore under his breath. Gods he thought he'd gotten over his claustrophobia.

"How are you Dumbledore?" she said, standing up and holding out one of her large, mannish hands to Dumbledore. Harry looked down at the paper in his hand. When had that gotten there? But he hurriedly stuffed it into his pocket when he realised it was the one she'd been writing lies on. He didn't really remember how he got it, but he wasn't stupid enough to give it back to her.

"I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards' Conference?"

"Enchantingly nasty," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat."

Rita Skeeter didn't look remotely abashed, but Harry didn't care, he was too focused on trying to catch his breath, too relived to be out of the cupboard. He inched away from them both, he had his cloak in his pocket, he could just vanish, sneak away.

"I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned-"

"I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita," cut in Dumbledore, with a glance at Harry, before giving a courteous bow and a smile to Skeeter, "but I'm afraid we will have to discuss the matter later. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if one of our champions is hidden in a broom cupboard."

Bugger thought Harry. But was glad for an excuse to get away from Rita Skeeter however it came. Harry hurried back into the room, Dumbledore at his heels. But Skeeter grated his arm in her talon-like claws and said, "I'll get you for that boy, you should be careful, never know who might you piss off if your not careful," before she shoved passed him into the room.

He swallowed, and followed her in reluctantly, feeling small and vulnerable. He wished Hermione was with him. He hoped she was okay.

The other champions were now sitting in chairs near the door, and he sat down quickly next to Diggory, hooking up at the velvet-covered table, where four of the five judges were now sitting - Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr Crouch, and Ludo Bagman. Rita Skeeter settled herself down in a corner; Harry saw her slip the parchment out of her bag again, spread it on her knee, suck the end of the Quick-Quotes Quill, and place it once more on another piece of parchment.

"May I introduce Mr Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

Harry looked around, and with a jolt of surprise saw an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. Harry had met Mr Ollivander before - he was the wand-maker from whom Harry had bought his own wand over three years ago in Diagon Alley. He hoped Mr Ollivander wasn't going to tell anyone anything about his wand core...

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr Ollivander and handed him her wand. "Hmm..." he said.

He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton, and it emitted several pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and scrutinized it.

"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches... Inflexible, rosewood... and containing... dear me..."

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a Veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

So Fleur was part Veela, thought Harry, making a mental note to tell Ron... then he remembered that Ron wasn't speaking to him. He sighed quietly, feeling impossibly tired all of a sudden.

"Yes," said Mr Ollivander, "yes, I've never used Veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands...however, to each his own, and if this suit's you.."

Mr Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip, orchids if his experience slaving away in his aunts garden was anything to go by.

"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Mr Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. "Mr Diggory, you next."

Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at Diggory as he passed her.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" said Mr Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as Diggory handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn... must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches... ash... pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition...You treat it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," said Diggory, grinning.

Harry looked down at his own wand. He could see finger marks all over it. He didn't realise they were meant to be polished. Where on earth would he find wand polish? He gathered a fistful of his robe and tried to rub it clean surreptitiously. Several gold sparks shot out of the end of it. Fleur Delacour gave him a very patronising look, and he stopped, mortified. Mr Ollivander hadn't said anything about wand care back in Diagon Ally, and neither had his introduction books. But then, they hadn't been that useful in quill use either... maybe it was one of those things you were just meant to know. He added it to his growing mental to-do list.

Mr Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Diggory's wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, "Mr Krum, if you please."

Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duck-footed, toward Mr Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood glowering, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Hmm," said Mr Ollivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I... however..."

He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.

"Yes... hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid... ten and a quarter inches... Avis!"

The hornbeam wand let off a blast hike a gun, and some small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight. "Good," said Mr Ollivander, handing Krum back his wand. "Which leaves... Mr Potter."

Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr Ollivander. He handed over his wand.

"Aaaah, yes," said Mr Ohlivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."

Harry could remember too. He could remember it as though it had happened yesterday...

Mr Ollivander had explained that the phoenix feather in Harry's wand had come from the same bird that had supplied the core of Lord Voldemort's.

Harry had never shared this piece of information with anybody. He was very fond of his wand, and as far as he was concerned it's relation to Voldemort's wand was something it couldn't help - just like he couldn't help being related to Aunt Petunia. However, he desperately hoped that Mr Ollivander wasn't about to tell the room about it. He had a funny feeling Rita Skeeter's Quick-Quotes Quill might just explode with excitement if he did. He shuddered, remembering the nasty glint she'd had in her eye when she'd threatened him.

Mr Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry's wand than anyone else's. Harry fought the urge to squirm with discomfort the entire time. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.

"Thank you all," said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges' table. "You may go back to your lessons now - or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end -"

Feeling that at last something had gone right today, Harry got up to hurry to the door, but the man with the black camera cleared his throat and jumped in front of Harry blocking the door.

"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" cried Bagman excitedly, Harry groaned silently, "all the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"

"Er - yes, let's do those first," said Rita Skeeter, whose eyes were upon Harry again. "And then perhaps some individual shots."

The photographs took a long time. Madame Maxime cast everyone else into shadow wherever she stood, and the photographer couldn't stand far enough back to get her into the frame; eventually, she had to sit while everyone else stood around her. Karkaroff kept twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl; Krum, whom Harry would have thought would have been used to this sort of thing, skulked, half-hidden, at the back of the group. The photographer seemed keenest to get Fleur at the front, but Rita Skeeter kept hurrying forward and dragging Harry into greater prominence, despite his reluctance. Then she insisted on separate shots of all the champions. At last, they were free to go.

Harry wanted to head to the infirmary next to check if Hermione was okay. However, he waylaid by Ron in the entrance hall. Classes had just let out, and it was crowded.

"You've had an owl," spat Ron, a nasty look on his face. Hedwig perched on his shoulder, letter in her beak.

Puzzled, Harry offered her an arm. He'd only sent his reply's yesterday morning, how on earth had any of them replied so soon? Though he hadn't heard back from Professor Lupin, maybe it was from him. "Oh - right, thank-" Harry was cut off.

"-and we've got to do our detentions night, Snape's dungeon," said Ron.

"Oh thank-" Harry tried again turning around, but Ron had walked away into the great hall. For a moment, Harry considered going after him - he wasn't sure whether he wanted to talk to him or hit him, both seemed quite appealing - but he restrained himself. He had more important things to do.

TRIGER WARNINGS:

I don't want to say self harm, but he bites his tongue/lip to keep from doing or saying something dumb. It bleeds a bit.

Claustrophobia - he is in a cupboard with Skeeter, he doesn't like cupboards. At all.  
Other note on his claustrophobia.  
He's only claustrophobic when his in a small space with others. When others are with him or are forcing him into small spaces he has a LOT of trouble with them. But if its on his own terms, and there's a clear way out hes fine. If his in control of the situation, he's totally fine with small spaces, likes them even. He's used his ability to get into small places to hide from people more than once. Its odd, but that's how it is for Harry.


	12. Chapter 12 Letters and Dragons

This chapter is dedicated to the brilliant Autumn4Sky, who has Beta'd it for me.  
Thank you so much.

note on edit - had to adjust Sirius's age when Lily and James died. They were all 19 when they died. (Yes I know thats not exactly the same, but its more convenient to my plot)

Happy Reading 

Harry ducked behind a tapestry on the way to the hospital wing when he saw Fred and George coming around the corner. It wasn't that he didn't like the twins, he did, but he didn't want them to pull a Ron. They had always been good to him. He didn't want to find out if that they didn't believe him and were jealous and angry at him like Ron was.

He perched in the small alcove behind the tapestry and threw up a quick privacy ward that he'd been studying. He lit his wand to read the letter.

The letter, to his slight disappointment, was not from Lupin. He spared a moment thought to wonder if Lupin had gotten his owl and if he was going to right back to him at all. Maybe Lupin just didn't want to bother with his dead friend's kids whining. He'd never cared about Harry before he was his teacher. Never visited Harry as a child, never written. He never even offered to tell him stories of his parents, not even when he was Harry's teacher. Hell, he only taught Harry the Patronus charm because Harry had begged. Maybe Lupin just didn't care.

Harry kicked himself for being surprised. Adults had never cared before. Even Sirius seemed more interested in remembering James than in Harry himself, and following Dumbeldore's every whim. He scowled. A kid who jumps at the chance to live with a total stranger should raise some concerns. But Sirius hadn't questioned it when Harry agreed straight away. Harry thought that any sane and competent person should. But then, maybe Sirius really wasn't that sane or competent. He, Harry, fainted by being near the dementors. Who knows what they would have done to Sirius after 13 years. That was assuming he'd been a competent before. Had Sirius ever really been responsible? He'd given Harry up to Hagrid at Dumbledore's say so that night. Being Harry's godfather, it should have fallen to Sirius to look after Harry with his parents dead. Not chasing after Wormtail. Why did Sirius just hand Harry over to Hagrid? Why was catching Wormtail more important that Harry? Weren't kids meant to come first? It shouldn't have surprised him, but it still hurt.

Sirius would have only been 19. That was pretty young, especially to be thrown into a war as a teen. Could Harry really blame him? On top of that Sirius would have been reeling from losing his best friends. Harry couldn't imagine that he would be able to think clearly, immediately after losing Ron and Hermione.

Shoving the thoughts aside, he read his letter. It was a quick note from Bill about a book he'd been reading, "Controlling Magics and Their Counters." Harry snorted, subtle Bill, he thought sniggering, real subtle.

Harry wondered how Bill had received and replied to his letter so fast. He was hoping Bill would mention how he did it in the other part of the letter. Harry cast the counter-charm to reveal the hidden writing. The writing wriggled around on the page, and rearranged itself to show:

"Harry,

We need to talk. Something's off, I think something seriously wrong. You should have at least been getting statements which should have mentioned your vaults and account manager. I'm surprised you've not heard of them, and that you don't know who your magical guardian is. Your letter brought up several alarming implications. (Don't worry, it's not your fault. We'll sort it out)

Can you sneak out to Gringotts? When's your next Hogsmead weekend? Or can you get the twins to show you a passage out one night after curfew? They'll keep it a secret if you ask. I can meet you at the Hogshead and apparate you to Gringotts (don't tell mum, but Gringotts employers can floo between branches. It's not done often, Portkeys are preferable, but they'll let me come get you for this.) Something fishy is going on. We need to meet in person and with the goblins soon.

Don't tell anyone, not a word. It's not safe, I'll explain later.

Burn after reading.

Bill

P.S. address your reply to Cursebreaker William Weasley CO Gringotts Bank London Branch. It will get to me much faster than sending your owl all the way to Egypt. Don't spread it around though, that's privileged information.

Also, check out the book I mentioned on the other side."

Harry's stomach sank. He knew something was seriously wrong ever since he'd felt Hermione's magic, but this seemed to make it more real. He pressed his head to his knees, feeling dizzy, his breathing shallow, racing. He'd been hoping for good news. Gods, he hadn't realised how much until now, but he'd desperately been hoping for some good news. That Bill may magically have a solution or something, anything to make this whole awful thing a little bit better. He selfishly wanted someone to say, it's all going to be okay, you don't have to do this alone, you don't have to fight so hard to exist all on your own.

He clenched and unclenched his fists repetitively as he tried to catch his racing breaths. His vision was blurring and spotting, he couldn't breathe. It was awful. Everything was spinning out of control. He'd been working so hard. Making so much progress, and now he felt like he was at the beginning again, with him being ignorant of his own life. People pulling at his strings like a marionette.

He forced himself to take a deeper breath, forcing himself to let it out slowly and focus on something else. What could he see? Not much, it was dark here, but his wand was lit, making the parchment seem more yellow that it really was. His wand was a dark brown colour, shining slightly in the light. The light was a soft pail yellow. The stones were grey. What could he smell, He took a breath. It dusty behind the tapestry, it was old but not musty. He tapped his fingers against the stone floor next to where he was crouching. Smooth stone, not as cold as he expected, humming slightly with magic. He focused on the magic, it tingled faintly at the edge of his senses, warming him slightly.

He was okay. He could do this. He was working on it. He was working on fixing his ignorance. He had the Gringotts and the etiquette book left to read. He could read them tonight. He was making progress on Occlumency and making sure he could protect himself from others manipulating him. He had started looking into some simple wards. Bill knew something was up, that meant they could do something about it.

He could sneak out via Honeydukes tonight, but he didn't think an owl would get back to Bill in time. Plus, if Honeydukes were closed, they might think it was being broken into. He didn't want to set off any wards they may have. He needed another way out. Maybe the Shrieking Shack? He couldn't apparate, so he'd have to make sure there was a way out of the Shack. Maybe his broom? He could fly out a window, were they all boarded up? He could use the cloak, and he'd read about a disillusionment charm. He could use that. He couldn't do it yet, but if he practised... He'd have to check it out later tonight and plan his escape carefully. But it was doable.

He sighed, it looked like tonight was going to be a late one, finishing the Gringotts book and scouting as well, plus whatever Snape had in store for him.

Harry paused long enough to crumble Bills letter up, incinerate it with a flick of his wand and vanish the ashes before he headed up to the hospital wing.

He was accosted by Madame Pomfrey almost as soon as he entered the wing.

"What have you don't this time," she demanded exasperatedly.

"Nothing! I swear, I'm fine! I only wanted to see Hermione," He said a bit nervously. He hated the hospital wing, it was always unpleasant, and Madam Pomfrey always seemed so irritated with him.

She glared at him suspiciously, before clicking her tongue and letting him in.

"Harry!" Hermione said, "what are you doing here?"

"Coming to see you, of course! Are you okay?"

"Oh! Thanks, Harry! Yes, I'm okay. My teeth hurt a bit, but Madam Pomfrey shrank them back down. They need to set a bit though before I can go. She wants to check the magic has settled before I leave." Hermione said, smiling a bit nervously.

Something about them looked... a bit different.

"Your teeth...," Harry said slowly, thinking about it a moment, "they're a bit different, a bit straighter and slightly smaller," he finished sitting down on the end of her bed.

Hermione smiled suddenly, very mischievously, and held her finger to her lips, "Well... Madam Pomfrey when she went to shrink them held up a mirror and told me to stop her when they were back to how they normally were," she said. "I just... let her carry on a bit." She smiled even more widely.

"Mum and Dad won't be too pleased. I've been trying to persuade them to let me shrink them for ages, but they wanted me to carry on with my braces. You know, they're dentists, they just don't think teeth and magic should mix," Hermione scrunched up her nose in distaste at the mention of her Braces. Harry frowned, he hadn't really realised Hermione hated them that much. But then Braces would have been rather annoying, and lots of Magicals pointed them out and questioned them all the time, not being familiar with what they must of seen as very bizarre and outrageous muggle devices.

"Malfoy's spell wrecked the braces," she went on, "so Madame Pomfrey had to vanish them anyway! So I let her fix my teeth. It was too good an opportunity to pass up!" She finished grinning wickedly.

Harry grinned, "Well, they look very nice. Not that you didn't before," Harry hurried, hoping he hadn't dug himself a hole, "you have a beautiful smile. Now and before you shrunk your teeth. No, really!" He said, when she looked ready to protest, "You did, you do. But I understand why you were uncomfortable and why you wanted to change them. I'm happy for you. As long as you're happy! Either way, they look nice. Never let anyone tell you that you're not beautiful. You seem more comfortable with them now. It shows." Harry finished fiddling with the hem of his robe sleeve.

Hermione looked a bit teary, but before Harry could panic that he had said the wrong thing, she beamed and said, "Thanks, Harry. Anyway, how'd the rest of potions go? What did I miss? We were meant to be looking at antidotes? Which one did he have us brewing? Did you take notes for me?"

"Ugh, I wish!" He groaned and proceeded to tell her all about the wand weighing, and Skeeter.

"It was horrible," he finished, "I would have rather stayed in potions…" he stopped hesitant to say anything else. Should he tell her anyway? He'd be breaking the rules, she won't approve. Would she tell if he asked her not to? Would she trust him? She hadn't with the Firebolt, just assumed he would be stupid and couldn't look after himself...

"Harry?" Hermione asked, interrupting his train of thought, "What's up?"

"Nothing, just thinking," he said hedged.

She frowned at him for a long moment, "Harry, I can tell your avoiding talking about something. What's wrong?"

He cast a silencing spell around them and then said, "had some bad news, but I can't really talk about it."

"Harry! What happened?" She exclaimed.

"I have it under control, I can't talk about it yet. Please drop it," he asked.

She frowned at him as if he was a particularly complex book she were trying to figure out. He felt momentarily guilty. But then he reminded himself, he was allowed to have secrets. She did. Hermione had kept the time turner a secret, this was like that. It wasn't safe, not because he didn't trust her, but because it was too big a risk, not when he didn't know what was going on.

She pressed her lips, "When have I ever let you down?" She asked, slightly defiant.

"It's not that, it's not safe. And also, I guess, partly?" Harry hesitated, "I know you may not agree with me, I'm going to need to break a few rules. I don't want you running to a teacher when you decide I can't make my own decisions in regards to how best to keep myself safe, and then take matters into your own hands" he said in a rush.

She looked irritated for a moment, then hurt, "when have I ever assumed I know best?"

"The Firebolt,"

"Harry, that was ages ago! And it could have been da-"

"I know," he cut off, "I didn't have any intention of riding it! I was actually going to take it to Madam Hooch, but you beat me to it. I'm not an idiot. I don't go looking for trouble, I just end up stuck in it," he said carefully. "I was really hurt you thought I couldn't make my own decisions regarding my own safety, that you thought I'd be so stupid. You should have said something to me first, not made the decision for me. That's not trust."

"Oh... I guess I hadn't thought of it like that, I didn't see it that way, I was just so worried" she said picking at a thread in the blanket, her eyes looking suspiciously damp.

Harry shrugged not sure what to say, "I do trust you, well as much as I really trust anyone, but I guess I'm worried you'll get upset that I'm about to break some rules and tell a teacher? Not to hurt me, but if you think it would keep me safe. I don't trust them, Hermione."

"I didn't mean to hurt you with the Firebolt," she said, "it's just that you have a history of acting rashly. I was worried."

"You're right, I do act rashly sometimes, I'm trying to fix it though," Harry said.

"I promise I'll try to talk to you next time if I'm worried, but only if you promise you'll try to have a little faith in me too," Hermione said after considering it for a moment, "you're my best friend, Harry. If you don't want to talk about this, then I respect that, really!"

He frowned at her slightly but she went on, "While I do think rules should be followed, look at Quirrell! I set his robes on fire so you wouldn't fall of your broom. I helped you go after the stone when the teachers wouldn't listen. I respect rules, but sometimes they do need to be broken, I do understand that."

Harry sighed she was right. He was being a bit unfair. He was about to say something when she went on speaking quietly to her blanket covered knees, "I don't like thinking you don't trust me, I'm your friend. But if it's not safe to talk about, I understand."

He reached over and hugged her tightly, glad she understood, wanting to reassure her. It was awkward, and it made his skin crawl a little at the touch. He wasn't really comfortable with it. The contact was blessedly brief. He tried not to look too relieved when she let him go.

"I'll tell you about it when I can, I promise," he said softly, "I'll try to have faith, I'm so sorry Hermione. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm not very good at the whole trust and friend thing."

"I know. I'll try too. We're all works in progress, but we can make this work Harry. I've never had a friend before either. I sometimes think I don't really know how. I don't want to lose you," she said.

"I know," he sighed, "Friendship is sometimes confusing."

"We'll work it out though," she said, smiling.

He laughed softly and nodded as Madam Pomfrey came to shoo Harry out, claiming Hermione needed her rest. Knowing better than to argue with her, he bid Hermione farewell and went down to see McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall's office was a small room off the first floor corridor. It was lit by a large fire that made the room look more inviting than Harry felt it actually was. But then maybe that was less the office and more the person in it.

"No, of course not, I'm not your magical guardian Potter. You have your own. Now if you don't hurry, you'll be late for dinner," McGonagall snapped out when he asked her.

Irritated at her continually brushing him off, Harry continued with forced politeness, "But ma'am, I don't know who it is. I didn't even know that magical guardians were a thing before today. How am I meant to know? Do you know who it is? Or where I can find out?" He persisted.

"I'm sorry Potter, I can't help you." She said briskly getting up and opening the door for him, a distinct dismissal.

"But ma'am" he pressed, trying not to snap, it was getting beyond ridiculous. It was as if she wanted him ignorant and on his own. Maybe she did, was she in on it? Or perhaps he was wrong, maybe it was her behind it all, not Dumbledore.

"You're my head of house," he said, "you act in Loco Parentis for your students, and are the Magical Guardian of all the Gryffindor muggleborn. Who else am I meant to go to for help? It's your job to help us, isn't it?"

"Ten points for your rudeness Potter, I expected better of you. Now, your issues are not my problem, you have your own guardian, and are more than capable of going to him, and not bothering me so needlessly. Now I have told you I am unable to help you with your enquiry, and I have had enough of your endless badgering. Off. You. Go." She said in a stern voice, gesturing to the open door.

Harry's shoulders slumped. Why did every adult in his life, let him down. First Dumbledore, then Sirius, now McGonagall. Maybe she was in it with Dumbledore. He sighed then realised if he didn't get a move on, he'd be late for dinner and thereby also late for Snape.

He cracked open the Gringotts book at dinner, after spelling it to look like his charms book.

It was a fascinating read, especially compared to his tiny green salad which seemed to be all the kitchens were willing to let him take from the buffet today. He scowled at it. He would have thought that if the elves (on Dumbledore's orders) were only going to let him have salad today, that they would at least let him have a bigger one. He had to stop himself from looking to the head table and glaring at dumbledore. Why did he care so much about keeping Harry underfed and hungry. Really what difference did it make. He stabbed at a piece of lettuce moodily.

If only he didn't feel the need to hide the fact he now had Winky and Dobby, who were quite keen to look after him properly. If Harry wasn't so cautious of Dumbledore noticing Harry was starting to figure things out he'd just ask for meals in the hall from them. Then he could have a proper meal instead of nibbling things surreptitiously on the go. He hoped they would have something for him later. Maybe Winky would put some more nuts and dried fruit in his bag again? She'd been putting little bags of trail mix in his pocket all week for between classes, it was quite good. Especially the tiny bit of dark chocolate mixed through it, he had come to learn that he loved chocolate.

Ron was already there when he got down to the dungeons, pickling rat's brains. Harry hoped for a moment they could at least share a commiserating look at their rotten luck. Unfortunately for Harry, Ron didn't even glance up as Harry knocked on the door. He merely focused on his task, looking thoroughly disgusted.

Snape was not in a good mood.

"This is the poison you will be brewing the antidote for," he said, holding up a file with milky liquid to show Harry, "If your antidote is brewed correctly, it should be more than enough to counteract the poison," Snape explained, holding up the vial, "Should you prove to be less moronic than your father."

Harry clenched his jaw, but said nothing. There wasn't much point in arguing with him. He could manage the antidote, he did have a Bezoar from his potions kit in his pocket. Harry would not need it, he could brew his own antidote. Plus it was not as if he was about to let Snape poison him. No way.

He got to work. By some small mercy, now that Harry knew how to prepare ingredients properly, tell the slight difference between colours, and how to stir things properly, coupled with no Slytherins tossing odd ingredients in his cauldron, Harry managed to brew the antidote correctly. It even looked to be the right texture. Snape sniffed it and glared at him.

Sneering, he said nothing other than, "Well? Are you going to volunteer, or am I going to have to make you?" Snape asked, holding a dropper with the poison.

Harry glared, there was no way he was letting Snape poison him, not willingly he wasn't stupid, "I'm afraid you'll have to make me sir," he said with forced politeness.

There was a snort from the back of the room, and Harry jumped. He'd forgotten Ron was there.

"I see you can learn," Snape shot back.

Harry could have sworn Snape looked almost pleased for a moment, but then the look was gone, and he looked just as displeased with Harry as ever.

Harry wondered what on earth Snape had meant and if he really was going to force Harry to drink poison. Snape loathed Harry, but he had saved his life in his first year. Snape just jerked his hand out, grabbed Harry's antidote and placed a drop of poison in it. Oh, he wasn't going to poison him... Harry had been sure.

Nothing happened to the potion for a moment before the whole vial turned sunshine yellow.

"Satisfactory, your obviously not quite as moronic as you look, if only that came across in your essays without cheating off Miss Granger," Snape spat out as if it was insulting and then, "Weasley you can go, Potter finish those brains, and the cauldrons then you can go as well."

Harry bit back a groan, he had homework to do still and had plenty of other things he had wanted to get done. He didn't complain though and got to work.

He was actually grateful for the mindless repetition of pickling the rats' brains and later scrubbing the caldrons. While the brains were gross, it wasn't that hard, and he could focus on the little things, making sure he cut them and stewed them correctly in brine. It was almost peaceful, it gave his overfull head a chance to rest, relax a bit. He may hate doing all his relatives cleaning and scrubbing, but he did actually like scrubbing cauldrons. It was meditative, physically tricky enough to keep him busy and clear his head, while it gave him time to think clearly. By the time he had finished and had trudged wearily up to the tower, he felt he had a good few options for sneaking out, and that it would probably be best to do it after curfew the next day. It gave him the whole morning to practice the disillusionment spell and figure out how to get out without being caught.

Instead of going up to the bed after he had finally finished his homework, Harry pulled out the Marauders' Map. He shrank his broom, pocketed it before he slipped on the Invisibility Cloak. Returning to the empty common room, he placed a silencing spell over himself, to make sure no-one could hear him. It had become a standard practice under the cloak after a few near misses, with Mrs Norris. Activating the map, he was pleased to see that this late at night the corridors were mostly deserted. Only Filch was still up, it was too late for the prefects to still have rounds.

There were multiple passages out of the castle, but only seven actually left the school grounds. On the fourth floor, there was a passage behind a mirror. It led out into the woods on the far side of Hogsmeade. That had caved in, unfortunately, that one sounded promising. The whomping willow led to the shrieking Shack. That could work. The One-eyed Witch led to the Honeydukes cellar, but he'd then have to break out of Honeydukes to get to Hogsmeade. Harry thought it was only logical that they would have more than just a locked door to keep people from breaking into the shop at night. Though wizards were not logical...

There were then the 4 passages that Filch knew about. Harry wondered whether they were warded or guarded at all. They would have to be, not having known ways into and out of the castle warded in some way was just asking for trouble. One passage was in the entrance hall leading out into the forest, west of the school border.

The passage behind Gregory the Smarmy's statue on the first floor led out into the forest, east of the school. Then there were two others, one lead to Hogsmeade station, one to the mountains behind Hogsmeade.

He went done the Honeydukes passage first, and despite managing to get into the cellar no problem, the door out of the shop was locked. Harry cast a detection spell he had recently learned and it revealed a bunch of wards that were tied to a Caterwauling Charm. He considered trying to break them, but they were woven together in such a way that he didn't think he'd manage it. He wasn't very good at wards yet. He really didn't want to set of the Caterwauling charm. The noise of it would bring everyone running.

He went back into the castle and checked out the passages Filch knew about next, all the while keeping a careful eye on the map so not to be caught out of bed. The one to the mountains behind Hogsmeade was behind a portrait of a grumpy looking hag on the second floor. It took the password, Revelare. He didn't try opening that, though. The picture would know someone had used it, even if they couldn't see his face. He wondered if he should find a spell to disguise his voice...

The next one was a statue of a witch he'd never heard of, on the 5th floor. He probably could have snuck past the suit of armor guarding it, but it has an alert ward on it. He could dismantle the ward but not without triggering yet another Caterwauling charm that seemed to need a password to dismiss. Knowing Filch, it was probably something torturous or derogatory.

Pity the map didn't pick it up, he thought. He wondered why the map picked up the passwords to the passage ways but not the ward's passwords. Maybe the map wasn't tied to the wards, just the people in the castle. If his father had made the map and drawn it based off only what they knew and had found, that would make more sense. It would explain why it didn't show the Room of Requirement, his father must not have found it, same with the Chamber of Secrets. It would also explain why the passwords for the secret passageways were there, but not the common room. The map wasn't tied to the wards, it didn't pick up new passwords. Just the ones his father must of told it when they were making the map.

Harry wondered if it was possible to somehow tie the map to the castle wards so that it would pick up new passwords. Having it tell him what ward were on something would be helpful. He was going to have to ask Bill for a book on curse breaking, or wards and he really should ask Lupin or Sirius about the map. Harry scowled at the thought of his godfather. He really did need to talk to him, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to set himself up to be disappointed.

The passage behind Gregory the Smarmy, leading to the forest east of the school, was next. While there were portraits nearby, they were sleeping, and there didn't seem to be any wards on them as far as he could tell. It was only once he had opened the passage and repeated the spells that he realised there were the same wards here too. He wondered who Filch had gotten to set them for him, they were rather good.

The passage leading to the forest west of the school was similarly warded. So it just left either the shrieking shark exit if he couldn't prepare the cleansed tunnel or learn how to break the wards on Gregory the Smarmy.

He snuck out of the school and down to the Whomping Willow next. It was strange seeing the tree so calm. With no one nearby it was only swaying ever so slightly, as if by a breeze, though the night was still. It looked beautiful under the moonlight. He picked up a stone as he got a bit closer. Within 5 meters, it seemed to sense him and twitch ominously. He stepped back, and it stilled. He levitated the stone and directed it carefully to prod the knot at the tree's base. The tree froze. He cautiously crept forward, but it stayed unnaturally still. He gave the tree a friendly pat as he pocketed the cloak, after a furtive glance around. The tree twitched, in response, but didn't move. He hurried forward and carefully slid down into the tunnel at the base of the tree.

It was odd being under the tree, the roots twisted and stuck out around the tunnel's ceiling and walls. As the tree came to life again above him, he thought he saw some of the roots wriggle. He patted one of them tentatively. It definitely wriggled this time. He suppressed a laugh at the sight. It almost seemed friendly from down hear. He felt oddly safe under here in the bowels of the tree's roots. Protected.

At a crouch, he entered the tunnel propped and lit his wand. The tunnel was just as low and as long as he remembered it. On and on it went; at least as long as the Honeydukes one. He felt just as awkward as last time, running the long tunnel at a crouch. At least he had a bit more stamina now, from running every morning. Shame he hadn't grown any taller though.

And then the tunnel began to rise; moments later it twisted, and Harry could see a patch of dim, dusty light.

Crawling through the small hole in the wall, he looked about the first floor of the Shack. Still as dusty and dilapidated as he remembered it. Paper peeling from the walls, stains all over the floor, every piece of furniture broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up. There were deep scratches in the walls and small holes in places. There was what could have been a front door, except it was so heavily boarded up it would be quicker to look for another way out instead.

He carefully moved down into the shadowy hallway. He crept along the hall and up the crumbling staircase. They creaked and the wide shiny stripe in the dust where Sirius dragged Ron along last year was no longer visible under all the new dust.

The dusty rooms upstarts were just as dilapidated, with doors hanging off their hinges, the windows, curtains torn, were all boarded up. Not a single way out. He looked about for another floor. There were no more stairs, but there was a hole in the ceiling over what looked like the broken remains of a set of wooden spiral stairs. There was a pile of wood at the base, covered in claw marks. He looked up. It seemed to lead to a small attic room. He thought he could see some light coming from the other side, maybe there was an open window? He could fly up then out the window. He'd need to go back for his broom though. He huffed and went back downstairs. Apart from all the dust and all the broken furniture, it was actually quite a beautiful little house once upon a time. He could imagine it being rather nice when it was fixed up. A bit gothic, but if he stripped back all the filthy wallpaper back to the wooden panelling on the walls, it would be quite lovely, dark, gothic and cozy. He wondered who owned it, he thought, as he moved about the room absentmindedly straightening furniture and an upturned table.

He was just moving the couch away from where it was blocking the front door when he noticed it. A gap in the wooden boards of the wall. He moved the couch some more. There in the wall, it was small, too small for a werewolf to get out, but if he tore off some more of the wallpaper and pulled out a few of the broken boards, he could probably sneak through it. He cautiously stuck his head into the hole and looked about with his lit wand. The cavity of the wall was just wide enough for him to slip in, but the drop was probably taller than him. He glanced around. The studs in the walls could act as a ladder, he'd be able to get out. He cautiously clambered down, trying hard not to think about how small the space was. There was no door here. It wasn't a cupboard, his uncle wasn't locking him in. He could leave at any time. He was fine. He was in control, and no one could get him here. He was safe. His feet hit the dirt. He took a breath, it was cold down here. He wondered if the house had a cellar. He kind of hoped so. He liked cellars. He wasn't too sure why, he just did.

He peered along either side of the wall but paused when he noticed a draft. He turned and carefully crept along the wall. Sure enough, there was another small hole in the brickwork. It was small, but with some help he from his wand, he managed to move two more bricks, making the hole just big enough for him to wriggle out of onto the grounds of the Shrieking Shack. It was dark out, nearly every single light in the village was out. But it was a clear night, and the sky was alight with stars on a dark blanket of inky blues and purples. It was beautiful.

So, he had a way out of the castle without anyone noticing. He grinned, all the opportunities this could bring... He looked about the side of the Shack. The main door was indeed boarded up from the outside as well as the inside. The windows, except for a tiny one on up at the top of the roof, were similarly boarded up. He looked down, the hole he had made was small, and half-covered by some scraggly bushes if he moved a couple of loose rocks and pieces of the old board, no one would be able to see the entrance unless they knew to look for it.

It was very early when he returned to the castle. He went straight up to the dorm and into the much needed long hot shower. After spending his childhood filthy more often than not - either from not being allowed to bathe ('freaks don't get clean water,') being pushed into the dirt by Dudley and his gang ('into the dirt where you belong freak'), or being filthy from scrubbing the Dursleys house top to bottom - he took great joy in being able to have not only a shower every day, but being able to have a hot one.

The shack had a lot of potential, he thought as he got dressed for bed. It may be worth cleaning up a bit, at least so he didn't get filthy every time he went. He really wanted to crawl into bed, but he had to scribble down a reply for Bill.

"Bill

Hogsmeade is not until next weekend, but I can get off the grounds no problem. I could meet you tomorrow night outside the Shrieking Shack? What time works for you? How long do we need?

Harry

P.S.

Also, had the weighing of the wands today, got dragged into a cupboard by Rita Skeeter. She wouldn't take no for an answer, and no-one listened when I said I didn't want to talk to her, let alone give her an interview. Any advice for avoiding her? Or dealing with the fall out when she writes something? I've heard she can be really nasty. I'm worried she's going to print a bunch of lies about me. Wizards will believe anything here, I don't suppose you lot have defamation laws or something to protect minors from the media?"

Letting the ink dry, he pulled out a strip of leather from his trunk. He'd been working all week on charming it for Hedwig. It now had several useful spells and runes on it. He was about to sneak up to the Owlery when there was soft tapping on his window. He grinned as he let her in.

"You're brilliant, you are," he said fondly. Hedwig tilted her head proudly and allowed him to stroke her feathers.

He held up the piece of leather for her to see.

"I know it's not pretty, but it should keep you safe," he told Hedwig, "In theory, it should cover you with a notice-me-not-charm and a spell-me-not charm, stop anyone tracking you and also keep you from harm." he paused thinking for a moment, "I was hoping you'd let me add a bit of your blood too. I want to link it to you so you can control who sees you. Theoretically just me, and whoever you're delivering the letter too, unless you will it otherwise. Will you wear it?" He asked.

She allowed him to prick her wing and put a small drop of her blood on the collar. He healed the spot and touched the collar with the tip of his wand. It glowed briefly as the blood sank into it and he put the small collar around her neck. She ruffled her feathers a bit, turned her head around a few times and ruffled her winds. She seemed okay with it.

He held the letter out to her, "I need you to take this to Gringotts, it's for Bill. He said they can get it to him fast. So, I don't know who you'll need to give it to them or if they'll have a way for you to get there faster but I trust you." She took the letter from him in her beak, before spreading her wings and soaring back out the window.

He stood there for a while. Watching her get smaller and smaller among what was left of the very early morning stars, before he turned, donning the cloak, and headed back to the common room where Winky would hopefully be waiting with a very late dinner.


	13. Chapter 13 Books and Etiquette

Sorry its late, notes at the end, happy reading.

Harry woke, after precious little sleep, to the alert ward on his bed going off. He started violently, and tor open the hangings, his wand out, a Protago on his lips. But he could tell by the size and colouring of the blur that it was just Hermione. His shoulders slumped in relief. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, putting his glasses on. Hermione came into focus, looking wide-eyed. He glanced at the window. Bugger, he'd slept in, they were meant to be going for a run.

"Sorry, was up late, I'll be down in a tick," he said shuffling to his trunk then into the bathroom to chance, shooting his roommates a glance to check they were still asleep.

He joined her a few moments later, and they crept out of the castle. They took a different route today. Instead of running the edge of the forest or the lake, Harry took them into the forest, along a path Hagrid had shown him. He knew it pretty well, and this close to the edge of the forest; it was no real danger. The air was cold and crisp, and the sting of it against his skin kept him awake. It was brilliant. He loved being in the forest.

"What on earth did you ward your bed with Harry?" Hermione asked, "I couldn't open your curtains, it stung me!"

"Sorry, proximity and protection ward, to keep people out. I may have forgotten to take the stinging hex off, people have been pestering me. Sorry if it got you. I was so tired last night. Didn't get to bed till early this morning." He said between breaths as they rounded a corner in the path. They were a bit deeper in now, the trees were more abundant, larger and closer together. It made the trail a little more complicated. Harry loved it. The air smelt a little different this far in, woody, musty, damp.

"maybe you need to add in an intent ward or something to it, I'll have to look them up it the library. With all the nastiness going on at the moment, warding your bed's a good idea. So what were you doing so late?" Hermione asked.

"Detention with Snape for one. He did ask to poison me, but when I politely declined, I think he actually complimented me. I think he was genuinely pleased, I fully expected him to force the poison down my throat. But he didn't."

"Well he wouldn't really poison you, he's a teacher. Besides, he saved your life in our first year. It would be a bit counterproductive." Hermione pointed out.

"Being a teacher has not stopped people from trying to harm me before," Harry said, "but your right, he has saved my life a few times now, he saved it again in our third-year too, when Lupin forgot his potion. How have I continually forgotten how he's always trying to save my ass. He may be horrible, but he's always tried to keep me safe. Even if he is a prick." Harry finished thoughtfully

"Harry!" Hermione scolded.

"It's true," he said, "besides, I got the potion right. He didn't even criticise my antidote; he even called it Satisfactory!"

"Harry that's brilliant, well done!"

"Thanks, I even got a bunch of things sorted out while I was pickling rat brains and scrubbing his cauldrons," he said.

"Planning for the rules you need to break, but can't discuss?" She said cautiously.

"Yep. Tonight, I'm going to bed early, but the bed should be warded. You shouldn't know, plausible deniability and all." He said.

"Just don't do anything foolish, and if it's illegal, don't get caught," she said after a huff.

Harry just laughed and lead them back through the forest to the changing rooms.

After their run, as he often did, Harry parted ways with Hermione in the great hall. She went to eat breakfast with Ron while Harry went up to the Room of Requirement for Breakfast.

Winky met him with a steaming bowl of porridge and fresh fruit, which Harry tucked into with gusto while flipping through a NEWT spellbook for the Disillusionment Charm. The theory was easy enough to understand now Harry had read the introduction theory books. The charm itself thought, was challenging. It required using the spell to manipulate his magic to make him blend into his surroundings.

Concentrating hard, and whispering the incantation, Harry twirled his wand around him as if he was wrapping himself in a rope. It felt off, like a raw egg. He looked down at his body, or rather, what had been his body, for it didn't look anything like his anymore. It was not invisible; it had merely taken on the exact colour and texture of the wall behind him. He seemed to have become a human chameleon. He grinned, but as soon as he did, it started to flicker, and it died.

He let out an irritated huff but kept practising. It was a challenging spell and even when he did manage to consistently get it to cover all of him, not merely in patches or flicking in and out, he found it very difficult to maintain. Something just felt wrong, the book said he would have to focus on making sure his magic was covering all of him, but he couldn't exactly feel his own magic at all, so it was hard to know if he was doing it right. It had said that once he had gotten the feel of the spell, and had cast it correctly and directed his magic to cover and hide him. It should click into place and be rather stable. But Harry was having trouble maintaining it.

After a good hour of working on the disillusionment charm. The best Harry could manage was getting it to last a couple of minutes. It was very frustrating as he couldn't feel what he was doing wrong.

Exhausted, he cracked open the Gringotts book again instead. He spent most of the morning with he is head emerged in it. It was a massive brick of a tome but not at all as dry as he had expected. It was very informative. Once he'd started reading it, he'd noticed a subtle sassiness and sarcasm in the way that the goblins had written it. They clearly didn't think much of wizards or their intelligence. Instead of being offended by this, Harry thought it was hilarious. They were right, wizards could be rather stupid. He was rather enjoying reading it, he hoped the Author, Master Scribe Ripquill had written more books.

It was quite an informative read as well as an entertaining one. It started with a long list of the services the bank provided, going into great detail about each of them. It went over what they coast, as well as what a customer could expect from the bank for those services and what the bank than expected from the customer.

He was amazed by all the things Gringotts did. It wasn't just banking, loans, investment, financial management and accounting. They also did Warding (personal and location-based), curse breaking, spell checking and spell-breaking services as well as Magiarchaeology. Then there was also Inheritance matters and Heritage testing as well as ability testing. They offered healing and ritual services, as well as Stonework (walls, houses, tunnelling etc.,) Architecture and construction as well as Metallurgy (jewellery, swords, gates etc.) If Gringotts was so useful why on earth did wizards treat the goblins with such disdain and disrespect? At the very least, Harry thought it was just plain stupid to piss off people who managed your money.

The more he read and started to understand the part that the bank played in the Wizarding World, the more uncomfortable Harry became. It was growing more evident to him by the hour, that much had been kept from him. Too much to let slide. Possibly as an oversight but most probably maliciously to keep him stupid and ignorant, to use him. He just wasn't sure who or whom and why. How many people were trying to play him like a puppet?

He was now uncomfortably aware that he, at the very least, should have been given his key by the bank, not Hagrid on Dumbledore's behalf (and where had he gotten it from?) Harry should have received quarterly statements from his 11th birthday, as well as the first and introductory statement, on his 11th birthday along with his key. The fact that no-one had explained his vault, the conditions and rules in regards to it when he had first entered the bank was also odd. And If Gringotts handled wills, what had happened to his parent's? Did they even have one? If not, why not?

The book then went on to discuss Goblin culture. It mostly talked about what not to do, and how not to offend the Goblins (too badly). Though it had also stated that most wizards ignored the practices as they were as a whole usually imbeciles. It explained that one should never speak first to a goblin, wait to be addressed, look them in the eye for the first greeting (and in farewell) don't look away. But aside from first greeting and farewell, one should not look a goblin in the eye, it was rather rude.

That was fine with Harry, he'd never really like meeting peoples eyes anyway. It always made him feel vulnerable, as if he could be seen. He especially his liked it since learning about Legilimency, the eyes were quite literally the window to the soul. Meeting ones gaze could be seen as a challenge in goblin culture. Having said that if you did meet their eyes, looking away first was seen as submission or weakness. Harry loved how complex the culture was.

Goblins were an intelligent, ruthless race of warriors. Correct forms of greeting were often, well met followed by their name or title, or Greetings Warrior or Greetings followed by their name or title. Proper forms of address were Warrior, Master of their job title, or just by their job title (i.e. Warrior, Teller, Master Teller, Master Goblin, Master Ripquill, Warrior, Warrior Ripquill or Scribe Ripquill.) The book went into little detail behind all the forms of address though, leaving Harry a bit confused as to how you were meant to know which one was the correct one to use for different situations, there were so many.

It was genuinely fascinating. If goblin culture was so intricate and enthralling, Harry was looking forward to cracking open the one on Wizarding culture and etiquette book. Hopefully, it would be just as brilliant.

The book on Goblin culture, he came to realise, however, really only briefly touched the surface of it. He realised he would need to ask Bill for some more books if he wanted to learn more. Which he did. He wondered if he could learn the language. He liked languages. He enjoyed studying Latin in the library outside of classes. It had undoubtedly made learning spells easier. It seemed sensible to learn the language of those that dealt with his money too.

Harry looked up sometime shortly after lunch to Hermione, opening the door to join him. She looked irritated.

"What's up? Ron being a pain?" He asked, not getting up from where he was sprawled in front of the fire with all his books and notes.

She huffed, "no, well yes, he is. He refused to do any study with me, a total waste of the morning. He'll never pass his exams at this rate. But no that's not what I'm irritated about. Do you have a subscription to the paper? Have you seen it yet?"

"No... I can't afford any non-essentials at the moment. What's she done?" He asked wearily, thinking back with a shiver to the horrible smirk on Skeeters face from yesterday.

Hermione let out a frustrated huff, "Skeeter made the tournament article all about you, hardly mentioning the other champions at all. She heavily implied that not only did you cheat your way in, but that you're also now trying to back out. She implied that you're a coward, that you can't cope. She also wrote a lot of rubbish about how your parent's loss has affected you, and it's painting you to be an attention-seeking cry baby with no backbone. It's appalling. I bet you didn't say any of that!" She said it all very fast as if summarising it quickly could mitigate some of the damage.

Harry groaned and thumped his head down onto the floor in front of him.

She handed him the paper. Much of the front page had been given over to a picture of him; the article (continuing on pages two, six, and seven) had been all about him, including a colourfully detailed account of his life story. An almost entirely fabricated life story. Yes, his parents had been murdered by Voldemort, yes he lived with muggle relatives. But that was where the truth in her article ended.

Many of the rumours that he had heard floating around Hogwarts appeared in the article, making him wonder. 'Harry was raised by his adoring muggle aunt, treated like a pampered prince was used to having had every whim catered too.' It heavily implied that this spoilt upbringing was responsible for him thinking he could cheat his way in and get whatever he wanted.

Rita Skeeter had gone a step further and reported him saying an awful lot of things that he couldn't remember ever saying in his life, let alone in that god awful broom cupboard. 'I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they'd be very proud of me... Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it... I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me...'

She had then gone even further and had interviewed other people about him too.

'He entered himself, cheating his way in, stealing the spotlight again,' he's good friend Ron Weasley said, 'it's fine though because he's Harry. He'll get away with anything, we just wish he'd helped us enter too.'

And it got worse...

'Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty muggleborn girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school.

And worse...

The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champion's names had been misspelled and squashed into the last line of the article as if they were a mean afterthought and not at all important. Cedric hadn't been mentioned at all. Harry was fuming by the end of it. He crumpled up the profit into a ball and threw it across the room and tried to incinerate it with a harsh jab on his wand. He was so angry though that his hands were shaking and his spell missed, harmlessly hitting the stone ceiling.

He wanted no part in this whole stupid thing, but they had, he was unwillingly, unwittingly stealing their glory whether he wanted to or not.

He swore, making Hermione jump. "Damn Skeeter! I want no part of this stupid thing. I don't want any attention! I want people to leave me the hell alone! If I ever get my hands on Collin or Ron, they're going to be sorry, that's the sort of shit I'd expect from Malfoy or the Slytherins, not my housemates. Gods their all going to crucify me on Monday, its bad enough in the corridors as is, I don't need more people hexing me in the back! Why can't the Wizarding world just leave me alone!" He fumed.

"We'll their not going to leave you alone," Hermione snapped irritated, "so we're just going to have to deal with it. There's no use yelling about it."

He swore again, stalked over to the bookshelves and started pulling off books.

"I need a law book or a book on Wizarding rights. Do wizards even have defamation laws? Or any privacy protection laws? What about a magical equivalent to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights? Does it even apply to them? Self-entitled pricks..." he muttered to himself still fuming. Hermione sat down primly on an armchair that appeared for her and watched him with a mixture of irritation and bemusement.

He looked up an hour later and slammed the book shut.

"They're all in bloody Latin! Old fancily worded Latin, not normal Latin! My Latin's okay but not that good! The ones that aren't, keep talking about a bunch of things I've never even heard of! They're not even in the dictionary!" He fumed again, restraining himself from tossing his Latin dictionary across the room.

"Are you wanting to just keep fuming and ranting?" Hermione asked curiously, putting a bookmark in her book, "or do you want to have a civilised discussion to sort this out,"

That brought him up short, and he thought about it a moment before saying, "Um, No. no actually I don't, I'm too mad right now," he said, slamming the book shut, "I just want to keep yelling."

"Well then, ask the room for cups or something to smash while you do it, you'll feel better about it," she suggested, opening her book again and leaving him to it.

As she spoke, the room got bigger and a large crate of what seemed to be empty sherry bottles appeared. He leapt up and taking them to the far end away from Hermione started throwing the bottles. They didn't all break straight away, some were old and dainty, making a wonderful smashing sound as they hit the wall and seemed to fly into a million pieces. But some took a lot more effort to smash as they were bigger and older. And by the time he got through the whole crate, he was sweaty, exhausted and aching from the exertion but could think again.

"Sorry for snapping," he said to Hermione, somewhat embarrassed.

"That's okay, it was pretty horrid of her, I'd be mad too," Hermione said, looking up from her book, "my Latin is not good enough to read these yet either but we can work on translating them. I think the reason you have been struggling with some of them is because you haven't read the book on traditions and etiquette yet. It actually talks quite a lot about how society works and is run. You'll need to understand that first to understand what the law books talk about."

"Thanks, Hermione, I don't know what I'd do without your clear head sometimes," Harry said tiredly, getting up, and crossing to the bathroom door that had suddenly appeared, "I'll have a quick shower then work through that, I should have just enough time before dinner."

When he cracked open the etiquette book, it became immediately apparent once more how much had been kept from him. There was no way his aunt would have known any of this or told him even if she had. Someone would have at the bare minimum, had to tell him about the books. They should have. There was so much he couldn't have known on his own.

Someone had deliberately kept things from him. There was so much more to the magical world than he thought. The more he read, the more he realised how much etiquette played an essential part in the wizarding world and how vital the unspoken aspects of the culture was. The wizarding world was very different from the muggle one. Almost like it as a totally different country and culture. It had many complex rules that governed social interaction. Even just a quick informal introduction seemed complex to Harry.

It was also immediately apparent, however, that he had made several blunders thought his ignorance and had quite probably, unintentionally, not only offended several people quite badly but snubbed them too. Which could quickly escalate to a blood feud if he didn't fix it. Particular with Malfoy and Snape to Harry's horror and chagrin.

With Malfoy, Harry had turned down his hand back in his first year on the train. While it was not polite to refuse someone's hand in the muggle world, it wasn't nearly as rude there, as it was in the Wizarding world. Here it was a grave insult and one of the biggest snubs possible. Harry hadn't meant it that way, Malfoy had just reminded him too much of his bullying cousin. But Harry had unwittingly made a massive blunder by not shaking his hand that day. By insulting Malfoy so badly, Harry had opened up a can of worms that could become a blood feud.

He sighed, he didn't need this. He also didn't really want to admit he had been so wrong. But it would explain why Malfoy had always taken such a strong dislike to him, taking every opportunity to insult, humiliate, demean, hex and get Harry into trouble ever since.

Snape on the other hand, while an unpleasant teacher, had also been snubbed by Harry's continual disuse of his title of professor as well as Harry's refusal to call him sir and his general disrespect. While titles were polite in the muggle world, they were often not insisted upon. Here, however, it was almost as grave an insult to drop the honorific, as it was to refuse a handshake. Harry had basically been saying, 'I think I'm better than you, you're not worth my time, you're not so well learned as to be worthy of your title, and you're not worth anything to me.' No wonder the professor always called him 'arrogant.'

However much Harry disliked the Potions Master, and hated how the man treated him, Harry hadn't intended to actually snub him like that.

His face burned as shame pulled in his gut. Looking at the rules of etiquette, Harry had acted terribly. Gods, Professor Snape, had indeed been correct in his opinion of Harry acting like an arrogant brat, however unintentional it had been. If he was right about that could it possibly be that he was right about Harry's father as well? Surely not...

Harry would have to fix it. He'd have to apologise to Malfoy too. Probably in public, and hope Malfoy could if not forgive him, be willing to work past it or ignore it. He didn't really understand it all yet, or the whole family feeding thing worked, Harry didn't think he was really anyone of importance, but he didn't need more enemies.

He hadn't realised how serious and well... formal everything was in the Wizarding world, even though Hogwarts was known to be quite informal with its manners and traditions. It was much stricter outside the castle walls. He didn't need more people out to get him or thinking badly of him. Maybe his lack of knowledge on wizarding customs, which came across as him being rude, contributed to why the school seemed to turn on him so fast, so often.

Harry sighed, pulled out a notebook and started making notes about how it all worked, and what he would have to work on. Somehow he didn't think that infernal article would help him at all. It would probably not make his job of fixing his mistakes any easier. He'd just have to study up and make sure he was sincere. All he could do was try his best.

It turned out that while some in the Wizarding world didn't obey the Old Ways anymore (discarding a lot of old traditions and courtesies), many of the older families still kept them up. They were quickly (and rightly so in Harry's newly informed opinion) offended when people ignored their ways. Especially those from other old families. Muggleborns got an exception, though were looked down on if not seen to be making an effort to learn.

Harry, coming from an old family like the Potters (not that he really understood what it meant yet) and seemingly 'ignoring' the old ways, was a huge insult. On par with being a blood traitor. If he didn't fix it soon, he would be in a word of trouble. It was like, he figured, being in the muggle world and going to Indonesia, or some other foreign country and refusing to learn the language or culture and expecting everyone to cater to him.

The wizarding world had its own culture, unspoken social communication, and traditions. They were as rich and alive as any other culture, as Harry discovered as he read, absolutely fascinating.

The importance of blood wasn't about scorning muggleborns (as far as Harry could tell, though people did use it as an excuse.) It was about Magical traditions and their importance. They were sacred and to be protected. He hadn't even known that there was something he was accidentally shunning. It made sense to broaden magical community, making them stronger as a whole, not weakening it by letting go of the old ways and picking up' muggle' culture instead. They were wizards, not muggles. They did things differently and for a good reason.

Unfortunately, the book only vaguely hinted at the importance of the old ways. Though it hinted at them, and the reasons behind them, Harry was disappointed it didn't go into greater detail about the Old Ways.

For the first time in his life, Harry thought that maybe, just maybe this might be home. Perhaps this might be that unnamed thing he had been yearning for. The pull for something more, that left an empty hollow gaping in his chest that he could never entirely shift or explain. A place to belong, with history and beliefs and something he could hang on to sink his teeth into and belong to.

Magic ran in his blood (he may not be able to feel it) but he felt deep within his bones that it was sacred, he could feel it in the very air around him and in the earth under his feet, if magic had a way of life, traditions and even a religion if you will, Harry wanted in. He wanted to belong to that. He had always felt like an outsider, never fitting in, still being alone. But magic... magic seemed to be somewhere or something he could call home, and his.

Then there was his family that he realised he was ignorant of too. Between the Culture book and the Goblin book, he got the impression that his family was probably old and powerful. Often Purebloods - he was pretty sure someone had said his dad was one - were often wealthy and had a role in society of some kind. They would have had a will, an account manager to look after their estate, and made plans for him. They wouldn't have left him in the muggle world, it went against all the old practices.

Bill was right, he would have an account manager. He needed to go to Gringotts or at least contact his account manager.

But how deliberate was it? Was it merely an error, or was someone, (Dumbledore probably) deliberately keeping him stupid? Keeping him isolated, ignorant and an outsider, keeping him weak? Was it Dumbledore? Did he really want Harry dead?

"I have a lot of work to do," Harry said finally as he closed the two books before Dinner. His head was swimming with all the new information, and he could feel long hours ahead of cross-referencing some of the intro books and scouring the room for more detailed books on magic, tradition, etched and religion. Though useful the intro book hadn't really gone into as much detail as he would have liked. It had hinted in a rich and complex set of traditions, but not gone into enough detail other than the basics.

"Mm?" Hermione said, looking from the law book.

"Turns out there are lots of unwritten rules, and I've been snubbing people by accident quite a bit," Harry said, feeling embarrassed again, "I didn't realise, there were so many important traditions and things."

"Oh, I just thought you were not that polite or just didn't think it important." she said after a moment, "Ron's pureblood and he doesn't believe in any of the traditions and manners in general. Lots of people don't nowadays. I figured it was like that. Anyway, it's not that important anymore, as long as you're basically polite. You don't need to stick to most of the rules, a lot of the older pureblood traditions aren't followed any more, they're interesting but not that important in day to day life." She explained.

"But Hermione, it is important, it's magic! There's so much more to it than spells and wands. I didn't know there were such a rich culture and unspoken language, that's amazing, that's precious. I want to learn that I want to be part of that. I want to be a part of something bigger than just me."

"You sound like a pureblood talking like that," Hermione said frostily, "don't tell me you suddenly think they're better than people like me, do you?"

"No! Of course not, muggleborns are just as good, talented and deserving of magic as any pureblood, but should not magic culture be learnt? Would we move to Japan and make no effort to fit in and learn the language at the very least?" Harry asked.

"Oh..." She said slowly, "I guess I never thought of it like that. I suppose I assumed the traditions meant bigotry, but when you explain it like that, it makes a lot of sense. I admit it did seem interesting when I read it, but a lot of the older students said it wasn't important. No-one cared about it anymore."

"We can look into it together," Harry said, "anyway I need to apologise to Professor Snape and Malfoy, but I'm still a bit confused on the correct greetings and bows and stuff.

"Neville was raised with magic, and is a pureblood," Hermione suggested, "he would probably know."

"Brilliant, thanks. Want to come?" he asked, offering her a hand up.

"No thanks, I'm going to stay here and finish this, it's really interesting," she said, waving him off.

Neville was in out in the vegetable patch by the greenhouses when Harry found him. Elbow deep in dirt, pulling up what looked like artichokes. Harry walked over to him, careful not to step on any of the plants. Neville looked up as Harry approached, "Hi, Harry, what's up?"

"Hey Neville," Harry said, "sorry to bother you, but I need some advice, help. If you don't mind."

"What from me?" Neville said, somewhat surprised.

Harry frowned, "Um yes, please, if you don't mind. You grew up in the magical world, I didn't. So you'll know things Hermione and I don't," Harry said nervously, bending down to help Neville dig out some of the artichokes.

"Oh okay," Neville said, "what do you need help with?"

"Well, I didn't know there was an intro pack, and that etiquette here is really different from the muggle world. I just found out, I've been snubbing and being rude to people for years without knowing. I need to apologise for my behaviour, but the book wasn't very helpful in using etiquette, just that it existed. I was wondering if you could help me understand it, especially the greetings, forms of address and the bows." Harry said nervously, not really enjoying having to admit his ignorance or his mistakes.

"Oh, wow!" Neville exclaimed, "so much makes sense now. Yeah no problem, if you help me pull the rest of this row, I'll explain it to you."

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully, tossing another artichoke into their bucket and watched in slight bemusement as it immediately vanished, leaving some loose dirt behind. It must have been going straight to the kitchens he though.

"So how much do you know?" Neville asked

"I read being pureblood: a Slytherin muggleborns guide to faking it till you make it," Harry said.

"Ooh boy," Neville let out a breath, "that one's okay, it's from the introduction list, isn't it?"

Harry nodded, "what's wrong with it?"

"nothing technically, it's just not really a good guide for someone who needs to be a lord."

Harry looked at him, "what?"

"Oh, boy!" Neville said again, dropping the artichoke he was pulling out and looking at Harry, "You have a lot of power, Harry."

"What do you mean? I don't have any power…"

"You do, you'll be a lord one day." Neville said, then when Harry just stared at him, he said, "you don't know?!"

"I don't want power, I just want people to leave me alone!" harry exclaimed yanking another artichoke out with enough force to topple back into the dirt.

Harry swore, and then let out a heavy sigh. "Best to assume I know nothing, before this week that was true, I'm basically a muggleborn, only I didn't get the introduction to the wizarding world they did."

"Oh man, right well..." Neville sighed and started to give Harry a crash course in the practical aspects of Wizarding Etiquette.

"In the wizarding world, there is a lot of old family's, the head of which is called lord or lady. Some lords and ladies have more power than other's you'll need to learn who they all are, and where each of them sits in the pecking order." Neville started going on to talk him thought the different lords and their hierarchy, and which were all the old families and which position they held.

"Oh, that makes more sense now," Harry said.

"The fact you don't is huge," Neville continued, pulling out the last artichoke, "Your magical guardian should have told you.

"I don't know my magical guardian," Harry said following Neville back into the greenhouse to put the tools away.

Neville groaned, "get to Gringotts get an inheritance test done. That will teach you about your family or family's, and get you to the vault where there should be family grimoires that will teach you your family's mantle in their place. Muggleborns can get away with reading about this. But people from the old family's, especially those in line, have to at least be aware of them and follow them loosely.

"Now, when greeting someone formally uses…" Neville went on going on to explain the most common formal and informal greetings, and farewells, as well as the different gestures and handshakes for different people and situations.

When harry had practised them a few times and been corrected a little, Neville continued "Now you only ever use peoples surname unless you have been given permission to use their first, and only then ith people you know well. It's insulting to just use their first name, its seen as you taking liberties otherwise."

"Oh," said Harry, "but not everyone uses my last name, and I never really gave anyone permission, Ron used it straight away."

"Yes well," Neville scowled, "there is a reason his family is called a blood traitor. They shun the traditions and think them unimportant. Magic, land and family are important here Harry, magical important, not just because of tradition and etiquette, there's more to it than that, magically. But a lot of people don't follow the old ways, but even those who don't it's still rude to use the first name without permission."

"most of the time your pretty safe calling people Mr or Ms and their last name, or here where it's slightly more informal, just by their last name. But to an adult always try to go for their proper title, Mr so-and-so or Heir so-and-so or Lord so-and-so. There are a few lords here at Hogwarts and heirs, often they don't stand to formality every day, but you should use the proper greetings at least when your first introduced."

He went on to show Harry how to bow correctly to different people. He also explained that there was a range of simple gestures people used every day for various different things, such as gestures to subtly acknowledge another person or that you followed the old ways.

Neville kept coaching Harry though a crash course on etiquette all the way back up to the great hall of which Harry was immensely grateful for.

"Now Gryffindor is not very formal, few of us practice the old ways, the old traditions and religions, and more and more of the rules of etiquette are forgotten in our house. But there are students and houses, like Slytherin that are much more formal and to follow the old ways." Neville explained, "so they will take longer to convince of your sincerity, but it's doable," Neville went on explaining at some length some of the more subtle things Harry had done wrong over the years to accidentally offend people.

"Hold yourself with confidence, if not pride. Be firm and calm, don't lose your temper. Pretend you know what you're doing even if it doesn't feel like it," Neville said neared the castle doors.

"I'll do my best," Harry said, "thank you for helping me with this, I'm really grateful."

"Don't worry about it, you've always treated me okay, I don't mind returning the favour. We may not be close, but we're still friends," Neville replied, making Harry smile.

"Besides," he said, "I didn't believe that trash, Skeeter wrote anyway, she's always steering up the doxies."

Harry groaned, "it was horrible! They're all going to be even worse now they've read that!"

"Yep," Neville said with a grin, "hold your ground, you know what really happened, act like a lord. If they don't get a rise, they won't react as much." he said as they approached the entrance hall.

Harry sighed but nodded, "thanks,"

"Any time, good like with Malfoy and Professor Snape," Neville said, leaving Harry in the entrance hall to catch Malfoy.

The school's reaction to Skeeters article, was somehow even worse than Harry had anticipated, as he found out as he stood to the side of the entrance hall waited for Malfoy to come up for dinner.

From the moment he appeared, Harry had had people - and not just Slytherins - quoting it at him as he passed and making sneering comments.

"Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying at dinner?"

"Been snogging your girlfriend Potter?"

"Been cheating at Charms too Potter?"

The shunning he had been experiencing since his name came out of the goblet seemed to increase as well, but not it was from the other schools as well, as they sat with the Hogwarts students for dinner. They didn't outright hex him as the Hogwarts students did, but there were nasty glares and muttering, most of which were not in English.

Harry was very relieved to see Malfoy walking up from the dungeons with along with not only Crab and Goyle, but also Nott, Parkinson, Greengrass, and Zabini. Even if it was only so he could hopefully step into a quiet corner with them, out of the hard eyes of the main school.

Harry stepped out of the alcove he had been unsuccessful in hiding in and approached them with great trepidation.

Malfoy evidently drew his wand and said, "where's your mudblood girlfriend, Potty?"

Harry bit back a lot of nasty comebacks but offered a proper bow of peaceful greeting, his palms up with no wand as the custom dictated before saying, "Well Met, Heir Malfoy, Slytherins. Might I ask for a moment of your time?"

"What do you want Potty?" Malfoy spat, looking surprised and irritated.

Harry bit back another retort, especially now he knew how rude Malfoy was really being and merely said, "I have recently learned that I have wronged you. I wish to make a most sincere apology and offer an explanation. Not an excuse, but an explanation for my unintentional snubbing of you back in First Year. And for the record, most of that article is rubbish."

Malfoy snorted, clearly not believing Harry and spat out, "this better be good Potter," before gesturing regally for Harry to continue.

Harry bit back a sigh of irritation "I was raised entirely muggle. I didn't even know magic existed before my letter. I was unaware that we had such a rich culture and was completely ignorant of all etiquette practices when I met you. I must sensibly apologise for snubbing you on the train when I refused your hand. I honestly had no idea that I was making such a grave insult to you and your house. It was not my intent. I merely took affront to a stranger insulting the very first friend I'd ever had. It was wrong of me, however, to act that way. I apologise. I did not, and do not have anything against you or your family. I had not intended to demean you like that. I do not expect forgiveness, but I would appreciate the opportunity to start again if you can find it within yourself to put the past behind us. I have no wish to be your enemy." Harry held out his hand.

Malfoy snorted and sneered, "Gryffindor golden boy, practically a mudblood. I wondered when you were going to figure it you, or if you are just too stupid and too much of a bloodtraiter. Well, it seemed you've wised up. Fine, I accept your apology and proposed truce."

Harry clenched his jaw but waited. After a painfully long pause, in which Harry could clearly see how much Malfoy was enjoying this, he shook Harry's hand. Harry kept his face blanket, not showing a wince, as he allowed himself to return the vice-like grip Malfoy was using to try and break his fingers.

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. Heir of the Nobel and Most Ancient House of Black, heir of the Nobel House of Malfoy," Malfoy said dropping Harry's hand as if it was dirty.

Harry refrained from raising an eyebrow at the claim to House Black, but said, "Harry Potter, apparently the heir of the Noble and Ancient House of Potter. Nice to meet you."

"I, unfortunately, can't say the same. This doesn't mean I like you," Malfoy sneered, "but I'll refrain from hexing or starting any trouble with you."

"I appreciate that," Harry said calmly, "I likewise will not start trouble, I have enough people out for me, hide."

"This doesn't mean I won't hex Weasel whenever I see him. Or the Mudblood."

"Weasley is not my problem, though would prefer it if you left Hermione alone, or at least refrained from insulting her in my presence. My mother is a muggleborn as well, and she was a hero." Harry said cooly.

"Fine," Malfoy said, stalking away rudely, not even a proper farewell. Harry stopped himself from letting out a sigh, he supposed that was to be expected, that Malfoy still hated him. Harry didn't like him much either, but at least he had started making up for his errors.

Harry turned to the other Slytherin 4th years, "likewise Ms Greengrass, Ms Parkins, Mr Nott and Mr Zabini, I sincerely apologise for my appallingly ignorant lack of manners. Ignorance is no excuse, but I am very sorry."

"So that article really was fabricated?" Parkinson said disbelievingly, "what the profit said?"

"And what did you mean by apparently an heir? You either are or your not," Nott snapped.

Harry pressed his lips together in a tight line but nodded before saying rather tersely, "most of it was made up. She forced me into an interview with her, though I didn't say a word to her. The only bits it got right was that my parents were murdered by Voldemort," he ignored their flinch, "and that I was raised by Muggles. However, they were not fond of me and did not tell me I was a wizard. Hagrid came and told me, but unfortunately, I missed out on the Muggleborn introduction. I didn't know of my ignorance until now. I asked Neville for assistance on making sure I apologised correctly and didn't make any more blunders. The books were not very helpful on actually practising any of them. Neville told me about my house and that I am an heir. I didn't know."

"Your heritage has been kept from you? Longbottom told you? That's criminal!" Cut in Zabini, and Harry wasn't sure whether it was Neville explaining it was criminal or the fact it was kept from him. Harry hoped it was the latter, he liked Neville.

"The Muggleborn pack is rubbish with traditions and things. Lots of the old ways are frowned on now. You won't get much detail in there, not what someone in your position will need. You'll need to read these books, hang on" Greengrass said, pulling out parchment and quill and writing down the names of three books, "these are better, and all but the end one is neutral, neither light nor dark. The last explains the different political cations and how culture is swayed within them."

"Thank you, Ms Greengrass, I appreciate it."

"they may now be in the restricted section, a lot of the really useful resources on traditions and culture have been moved there in the later years. Its criminal, but if you ask Professor Snape, he will give you a pass," Greengrass explained.

Harry couldn't stop a dubious expression crossing his face.

Greengrass gave him a withering look and said, "you will be apologising to him too, will you not?" she demanded.

"of course," Harry said, meaning it.

"Well then, tell him we gave it to you, and be polite, he's good with the old ways. He'll give you the pass if you explain why you need it. He teaches all the muggleborns and half-bloods in our house so that they can fit in. He won't turn you away, even if he doesn't like you," Parkinson said, "he respects the traditions and magic too much to do it such a disserves."

"Thank you."

"Look I can tell you have worked hard to get this right, but it's painful clean you don't really know what you're doing. Your guardian is clearly deficient. For all that you can bluff quite well for a Gryffindor, you need lessons," Parkinson continued.

"We could be persuaded to tutor you in etiquette," Zabini offered,

"for a price Mr Zabini?" Harry said with a smile.

"very good for a Gryffindor," Nott muttered to Parkinson

Harry smirked, "I'm good at Defence, I can cast a Patronus. I could tutor you if you like? We all know our teachers in the past have been somewhat deficient. I'm also rather okay at Care of Magical Creatures."

"That would be fair, a lesson for a lesson," Parkinson said

"And you will tutor me on heirs and lords, not just etiquette?" Harry asked.

"Well bargained," added Greengrass, "you will continue until we master the Patronus then, not just one lesson."

"Agreed," Harry said, "likewise, not just a lecture on etiquette the Traditions and the old ways too? It's hinted at, but I haven't managed to find any books yet, and magic is fascinating."

"We don't know you, and that knowledge can be dangerous to us, in the wrong hands. We don't know you, don't trust you." Nott snapped, his eyes cold.

"It's dangerous?" Harry said, coming up short, "I don't understand. I'm sorry? How is knowing traditions and the old ways dangerous?"

Nott sighed, "your such a Gryffindor."

"I was meant to be Slytherin, but I met Malfoy and begged the hat otherwise," Harry snapped, "he is too much like my bullying Muggle cousin."

That startled a snort out of the cold boy, and he said, "to think the damage we could do to his reputation when we get you up to snuff, and people find out that it was because of him, we missed out of the 'golden boy,' the only Paselmouth in Hogwarts." Not continued with a wicked smirk, that was mirrored by the other Slytherins.

"If people thought that we practised the old ways, it could be perilous," Parkinson explained

"Perhaps can we discuss it later then, in private? I'd be prepared to make an oath, not to knowingly bring trouble to yours or your family doors? Or something like that, as long as it was mutual." Harry offered.

"Read the books Potter, and we'll discuss it after a few lessons," Zabini said, "maybe you do have the makings of a Slytherin."

"You won't know until you teach me, will you Mr Zabini," Harry said with a sharp smile.

"Just Zabini will do, you can drop the formalities, Potter," Zabini said his returning smile equally sharp

"Likewise," Harry said with a nod, "merry part then," he said before parting ways with them to go to eat at the Gryffindor table.

Other notes:

In case anyone was wondering, yes they are professor trelawneys used sherry bottles that she hides in the RoR


	14. Chpt 14 The Land, its magic & its people

Sorry its a tad late, this is the start of about 3-4 chapters worth of Gringotts stuff. It has taken ages to write this bit! I think I must of re-written the Gringotts stuff about 9 times now to get just right.

The forbidden forest hijacked my plot for this chapter! I hadn't anticipated the forest being such an important part of the story it was meant to be a little side note pre-gringotts. It was meant to be a moment with the unicorns (with was important I'll have to find somewhere else to put it now!) But the Centaurs came and hijacked it and the forest seemed to want to be heard so… have at it.  
I really do love trees and the land.

(See the end of the chapter for more strictly text related notes!)

Happy Reading

Dinner was not much better than waiting in the entrance hall had been. Even his book on diagnostic spells that he and Hermione had been reading wasn't much of a distraction. Especially when Hermione had had to keep whispering, "ignore them, just ignore them," in his ear every time his peers said something snide, or to stop Harry jumping a mile every time someone tried to surreptitiously hex him in the back. A few of the hex's he did get hit with though, he was getting good at shielding now, proved to be harder to undo, and he suspected a few had been Bulgarian or French hexs.

"Want to come to Hagrid's with me?" Harry asked Hermione as he exited the hall with great relief after their meal. He slipped the invisibility cloak around his shoulders as soon as he could but left the hood down so Hermione could see his face.

"No thanks," she frowned but didn't mention it, "I know he's taking you into the forest and that you love it, but being in once a day is enough for me. Besides, you're going to check on the Thestrals, aren't you? I can't see them. And while I can feel them, we both know I wasn't much help last time, not really, though I admit it was fascinating. Have fun, though. I promised Ron I'd play chess with him," Hermione said.

Harry couldn't hide a grimace from her, she knew him too well.

"Honestly, Harry," she sighed, "he'll get over it, he means well."

"Means well!" Harry exploded, unable to bite it back anymore, "he talked to the bloody profit! He called me a cheat and said I get away with whatever I want because of my name."

"Sorry poor choice of words on my part," she plicated, "but he's jealous of you. I've told you that before. I wish you'd just talk to him! Anyway, you do get away with a lot!"

"What!?" He exclaimed horrified.

She sighed and said, "Well, you do, you don't mean for it to happen, but it does. You break the rules at the end of every year, for a good reason," she hurried, "but you get rewarded for going into danger, not punished. That's probably what would happen to anyone else."

Harry glowered, and she added, "It's not your fault, but I don't think anyone else would have been made seeker in your first year, for flying when Madam Hooch said we'd be expelled."

"Why? I never... oh gods, what do I do? I don't want special treatment, I want to be normal, to slip through the cracks and not be noticed. I never asked for this!"

"I know," she said soothingly, "but we can't really help that. Maybe... Well I won't say don't break the rules, everyone does, but try not to get caught. Try not to be so rash, plan ahead. Don't leap in head first, if you don't know how deep the water is."

He nodded miserably, "Hagrid's doing it too, isn't he? With taking me into the forest and teaching me stuff, 'cause I'm the boy-who-lived," he spat out the title loathingly.

"Maybe," she admitted, "but probably just because he's your friend and your genuinely passionate. He Iikes you, Harry and he likes sharing that passion about creatures with you. Ask him if you're worried. He liked Charlie too, and Charlie loved animals as well. You write to him, don't you? Maybe Hagrid mentored Charlie as well. Ask them." She suggested.

He nodded and slipped the hood over his head and disappeared so he could sneak down to Hagrid's without being hexed by the group of muttering Ravenclaws that was eyeing him as they exited the great hall exiting the great hall.

"I didn' know you and Hermione were datin' 'arry?" Hagrid said when Harry met him at his hut.

"We're not! The article was a load of Thestral dung," Harry said, trying not to snap at his friend.

"Oh, fair enough then. I know you didn' enter the tournament, but I wondered about the rest," Hagrid admitted as he led Harry into the Forest, his crossbow on his shoulder, Fang trotting at their heels.

Harry sighed, "don't worry about it Hagrid, but most of what they print about me is crap. I did wonder though... Do... Are you taking me into the forest and teaching me extra because we're friends and you like sharing your passion with me? Or are you doing it because I'm the boy who lived and giving me special treatment? It was pointed out to me that I get a lot of special treatment" he said bitterly, "and I don't want you treating me different because I didn't die. You don't owe me anything Hagrid, don't feel you have to."

"No 'arry, I teach you 'cause you asked f'it, you like it as much as I do. Don't you worry now about what they all sayin' 'arry." Hagrid said, his black beetle eyes crinkling as he smiled reassuringly behind his bushy beard.

"Took Charlie in, too sometimes I did," Hagrid continued, "he loved aminals like you seem to, he did. He left early though, to study Dragons. Anyway, we're going to check on the Thestrals again this evenin', make sure the foals are doin' okay, and their mum's."

The walked the familiar path, and Hagrid again pointed out the different plant species as they went, what they were used for, what they fed or where inhabited by. They saw some bowtruckles briefly, too. Hagrid pulled some woodlice out of one of his endless pockets and coax one down onto Harry's hand. It was a strange twig-like creature, but Harry laughed as it waved its little fist at Hagrid when it ran out of woodlice, while Hagrid was still telling Harry about it. Harry reached into Hagrid's pocket and pulled out a few more, and it sat contentedly on his hand, as Harry handed it its tiny wriggling meal. He loved magic. It still sometimes seem so fantastical.

They saw two Centaurs on the way back from the Thestral's. Harry recognized the black-bodied and bearded Bane, whom he had met nearly four years ago and the palomino Firenze.

"Ev'nin" Hagrid called as they approached.

"Good evening Hagrid" Bane called

"You met Harry? I've been takin 'im under me wing, showin' him the ropes so to speak," Hagrid said clapping Harry on the back, he stumbled but was pleased when he managed not to fall over this time.

"We have met, good evening Harry Potter, I hope you are well," Firenze said.

"Er hello, I'm doing okay. Better in here than out there, anyway" he jerked a thumb back towards the school. For some reason, not feeling ashamed for admitting it here, when he was in the forest with Hagrid and the Centaurs. If anything, he thought they'd understand how much safer he felt in here than out there, at least in here, he knew what the risks were.

"You?" Harry stuttered, still little awed by their presence.

"Mm," Firenze hummed casting his gaze skyward. Harry looked up too, there was a patch of dark sky glimmering through the trees, the stars starting to shine brightly as the evening got darker.

"Mars shines brightly above us tonight," Firenze said, looking back down at Harry.

"Mars is the bringer of battle," He said slowly thinking back to Astronomy and Divination. He didn't think much of Trelawny, but he respected the Centaurs. They had said that last time too.

Harry glanced up at the sky again, squinting but could make out any individual stars, let alone Mars, "The war... he'll be back?"

Bane stamped a front leg, "we do not divine the stars at will like petty fortune tellers, for humans," he spat.

"No of course not, I didn't mean to offend," Harry said before Hagrid say anything in his defence, "I'm sorry, I'm still learning about the magical world, and the other cultures part of it. I didn't mean to imply anything, just meant to clarify if I understood you correctly."

"We do not bow to the whims of others," Bane scorned.

"Gods, I wish I could do that." Harry muttered enviously, unable to stop himself, "I wish I had your strength... I'm sorry, I didn't mean any offence, I..." He trailed off a moment trying to find the right words, "there's so much I don't know, the magical world so big, and diverse, and so... wonderful. I want to learn it all, but there's so much I don't know. I keep putting my foot in it. I don't mean to, I just want to be... I don't know, connected to it? It's magic, magic is...sacred," he trailed off feeling lost and small.

"He's, but a foal Bane," Firenze chided softly, and Harry wanted to bristle at the accusation, but he was uncomfortably aware of how much he didn't know at that moment, and how much smaller than the Centaurs he was. He felt tiny, bearly coming to Firenze's hip.

"Teach me," he said quietly, pleadingly.

"For shame!" Bane growled, pawing at the ground, Hagrid put a hand on Harry's shoulder about to pull him back, but he stood firm. He was braver in here, under the safety of the trees, away from the harsh, judgmental eyes in the castle.

"Exactly," Harry persisted, stepping forward in his earnestness, "I don't know anything! I keep messing up. I know you don't like wizards much, and rightly so! I don't really either! We keep screwing everything up and treating you horribly. Hogwarts sings, but no one hears her. The forest sings, but they ignore her too. I don't want to be like them! I don't want to be ignorant and rude, scornful because I don't know better. Magic is more than just wizards, and wands! I want to be better, I want to be part of it, part of Magic. Not the wizarding world and its prejudice and small-mindedness. I want to understand the magical world not just the Wizarding, there's more to it than that. Teach me. Teach me your ways, teach me the ways of the forest. So I don't make the same mistakes as that of my forefathers. I won't be a foal forever; eventually, I'll be an adult, and I won't have the leeway of youth. Help me be better."

Bane looked furious, Hagrid looked stunned, and Firenze looked down at Harry with an uncharacteristically sharp gaze before glancing at the sky again.

"Centaurs are not the servants or playthings of humans," said Firenze quietly after a moment.

"We shall not enter into servitude to humans," said Bane, his voice spitting with anger and disdain.

"Peddling our knowledge and secrets among humans," he continued, "For shame! There would be no return from such disgrace."

"No!" Harry pleaded, "That's not what I meant! Not servitude! Not secrets, not sacred knowledge! Sacred knowledge is to be respected, and if it's not to be shared with outsiders, I respect that. I mean little things, like how to address you properly, with proper terms of respect that are not offensive. Do you use sir and ma'am like wizards do, or master like the goblins? Teach me how to not accidentally offend you. I don't want to! Not at all! I don't know how old you are, and I don't know if it's rude, but you're older than me, I think, and that means you have years of wisdom and learning on me, that's to be respected. That's... that's special and worth respect. But I don't know how to do that without accidentally offending you, because I don't know anything. You live in here, and I think that's amazing, it so much better in here away from that lot," he looked up at them earnestly, enviously, begging silently for them to understand.

Desperation and frustration, at his constant isolation, at the pain of being cut off, of desperately wanting more was bleeding into his voice. "This forest would kill me in a minute, I know nothing. But I want too! I'm desperate to know something. To connect!" He had long kept it all under tight reign, but it was slipping out now.

Now he had started it rushed out of him like a burst dam, "I don't want to tramp through the forest, damaging it as I go, I love this land, it feels like home, it feels right, it sings to me. I want to care for it and protect it and be part of it. I don't want to use you! I don't want to know whatever you're not willing to share, but help me be better, less ignorant and stupid like the rest of my kind. I want to know the ways of the forest, to help it, to be part of it. I don't want to be like them."

He looked at them in the eye so desperate for them to understand. He'd never been able to express it before. The connection he felt with the land, with the trees and the creatures, the peace he felt in here. It was dark and dangerous, but it felt as much like home, if not more sometimes than Hogwarts did. He had a deep yearning to be part of it. Some days he wanted to step into the forest and never leave. He felt part of it somehow, he may not be able to feel his magic, but he knew the land was part of him, and he part of the land.

He didn't want to offend the Centaurs, they had knowledge and wisdom, and he wanted to learn all he could from them. It wasn't about just surviving the tournament, this just felt right, a need, deep in his bones.

"I'm not asking you to work for me, I would never. As someone who has had a lifetime of servitude to others, I would never ask. But can I give you something in return, an exchange? I can earn it? Please." He all but begged, "I'm not good for much, but I can be useful, I can earn my keep so to speak. Please teach me the ways of the forest."

"'arry," Hagrid cracked out, sounding worried.

"You are bold in your request, Harry Potter" Firenze cut in.

"Bold and rude through your ignorance but perhaps that makes your point. Though your sincerity for learning is commendable. We will. Not. Enter. Servitude. To humans," Bane added harshly.

"I'll work for you! In return, anything. You would not be serving a human, it would be an exchange, a trade between two living souls who are not so different really. You breathe, you feel, you sleep. I breathe, I feel, I sleep" Harry said, almost yelling now. Why did they keep misunderstanding him?

He took a breath and considered how to explain it better, "every living thing, is really no different from each other. We are all brothers and sisters; Witches and Wizards, Muggles, Centaurs, Unicorns, Thestrals, Trees, Shrubs, Mandrakes. We are all children of the land, this land" He paused a moment, casting his gaze around, his eyes lingering on a bowtruckle in the tree above him.

"No-one else has ever understood it. But we are all of The Land, we are all part of Magic. That makes us brothers and sisters. Part of the earth, part of Magic. They look down on you, Hagrid for... being taller, for..." Harry threw his hands up in frustration, "I don't know! People are stupid!"

He took another breath and started again, "They look down on you for looking different, my Muggle relatives hate me for being magical, Wizards shunned Professor Lupin for being a Werewolf, Hermione is shunned for having Muggle parents, my mum probably was too" he said, "but it should not be that way. People are ignorant, so they act badly. This forest is special."

He reached a hand out to the bow truckle and coaxed it down onto his hand, fishing a few woodlice out of Hagrid's pocket again, looking at it, reverently. "it's part of Magic. It's home, it feels like home. I've never had that, never felt connected to anything before. I can't even feel the magic inside me, but I can feel it here, in the earth. I look at the trees, and the dirt, and all the living things and I see my brothers and sisters," he said stroking the Bowtruckles back fondly, it chittered at him.

"I want to be part of something, part of the magic, I don't want to be another arrogant wizard stomping through damaging and scorning everything. I want to be part of it, part of the forest. I want to understand its people and its ways. I want to belong somewhere, to something bigger than me. Please. The trees call me. Please, let me in. I can't explain it any better than that, but my intentions are honest and true, with no disrespect meant." He trailed off, looking up at Bane and Firenze, shire desperation in his gaze that had Hagrid sniffling.

Harry could feel the magic in the forest floor under his feet, wrapping around him, urging him on, egging him on, encouraging him. He kept speaking, "As far as I can tell, you are the wisest, most knowledgeable people in the forest. You understand how it works, you and Hagrid, please teach me. I want to be part of it, not part of the problem," Harry finished, and he bowed deeply.

He wasn't good at the Wizarding bows yet, but he bowed low, bearing the back of his neck, making sure he was lower than them. Trying to show respect, sincerity and forcing himself to place himself at their mercy, "please, please teach me the ways of the forest, I beg of you. I will place myself at your mercy, but please consider it. Please don't shut me out. Teach me, please" The forest around him hummed.

Firenze looked at him for a long moment, before glancing at the sky contemplatively, and humming softly.

Bane rounded on him, and said sharply, "Vega has been unusually prominent" as if that explained everything.

Firenze nodded calmly.

Bane suddenly reared, his fists clenched, kicking his forelegs in Firenze's direction. Harry flinched back, suddenly his hand shot out as if to grab Firenze and pull him back, but Hagrid had Harry by the collar and was pulling him out of reach before he could do anything. His heart pounded, he suppressed the urge to fight free of Hagrid's grip and hide. He hated yelling, hated fighting and violence. He shivered as Hagrid cried out, "Hey, now!"

But both centaurs waved a dismissive hand. Firenze stood his ground calmly, unharmed, not even needing to move out of reach, of Bane's angry hooves.

"Vega has been prominent" Firenze agreed mildly.

Harry had the distinct impression Firenze meant something else to what Bane had meant when he said the same thing. Harry tried to remember what Vega was, but could only remember it part of the constellation Lyra and had something to do with falling. He shivered.

"We do not set ourselves against the heavens!" Bane roared.

"And we shall not, it is as the stars say, as it has ever been. But they have been read wrongly before, even by centaurs. Mars is bright, as is Vega, you think that will not touch us? He is the potter boy." Firenze said firmly, reminding Harry again, of what he had said in harry's first year, after Quirrellmort in the forest. Harry wondered anew what he meant, it made it sound like there was some sort foretelling about him.

War was coming... and something would fall. It would affect the centaurs as well. But they couldn't do anything about it, but Harry may be able to? Or maybe had a part to play? He was uncomfortably reminded of Professor Trelawney's prophecy at the end of third year.

Harry shivered, feeling something bigger than him was going on, and it filled him with dread and an urgent need... For something.

"Get up human foal and leave our forest," Bane said sharply to Harry before turning to leave the path.

Harry felt like he had been physically hit, his hopes and dreams snuffed out before they even began. His heart sank, and his throat ached, feeling swollen. He got up mechanically and started to leave, trying not to feel sick and cold inside.

He didn't really understand. Why did it matter to him so much? But it did, and their rejection hurt. He couldn't explain why he felt so strongly, but he did, and for some reason, this place felt part of him. And yet he was being turned away.

"Sorry, I won't bother you again," he wheezed, walking down the path towards the school with a heavy heart.

"You misunderstand Harry Potter. We have not banished you yet. Return at dusk on your Sunday. You will have an answer then," Firenze said, turning and following Bane into the trees.

Harry looked back at them, beaming, "thank you!"

"We promise nothing," Firenze called back, melting into the shadows of the trees.

"You really are somthin' 'arry." Hagrid said as they walked back to his hut.

"That was risky Harry, I don't know what they'll say, they might still banish you."

"I know but Hagrid I just, I feel strongly about it. I can't explain it any better, and I've never said anything, but I've always felt that way. The more I read about magic, the more it feels right. I just, I had to ask." he said, looking up at Hagrid willing him to understand.

"I understand 'arry, I do," Hagrid said, putting an arm around Harry. Harry flinched but managed to not pull away, Hagrid was a gentle soul.

"Hogwarts and the forest 'as been my home, longer than you been alive. I understand Harry. Not many wizards do, great man Dumbledore, but he don' really get it neither, not like I'm starting to see that you do. Don' worry 'arry, it'll work out. When the forest calls, you obey. That's sacred that is, it'll work out." Hagrid finished, and Harry even managed hugged him back briefly, so grateful that he understood.

Harry went straight up to the castle and up to the common room after he left Hagrid's. It wasn't quite curfew yet. He slipped into the common room, hoping not to be noticed. While the Gryffindors hadn't been hexing him in the corridors, he didn't trust them not to start now that the newspapers had portrayed him as a coward. He had gotten quite a few snide looks at dinner. He, somewhat hesitantly, slipped over to where Hermione was playing chess with Ron. He sat down on the couch next to her and pulled out a book. He needed to mention going to bed early, so people didn't look for him. But he didn't want it to sound forced.

"How was Hagrids?" Hermione asked, looking up from the game she was losing. Ron around and cut in, "what do you want, cheat?"

Harry sighed, he hadn't expected it to go down well with Ron when he joined them, but he expected the cold shoulder or glares he'd been treated to all week. He didn't expect Ron to say anything.

"Ron!" Said Hermione

"What? It's true!" Ron said scathingly, "he's nowhere near as smart as you, so he can't be getting those marks honestly, and there's no way he entered it on his own, so he cheated."

"I'm going to bed," Harry said, getting up, suddenly too tired to fight and this was as good an excuse as any, "I'll see you in the morning, Hermione."

"Early?" She said.

"Probably, we'll go for a run down by the lake." He replied before heading up boys stairs, fumingly ignoring Ron's call of "coward," as he went.

Harry yanked the curtains on his bed shut and warded them so no-one would get in. As an afterthought, he added in a strong stinging hex as a deterrent and added an alert ward so he would know if someone tried to get in. He then changed out of his school clothes. Having no clothes of his own except school uniforms and robes, he nearly always wore his uniform unless it was winter, in which case, he needed all the layers he could get to try and stay warm. He changed into his best (but still rather horrible, despite Dobby and Winky's best efforts) set of Dudley's off casts, he didn't want to be recognised as a student, though he wished he had a black cloak or something that didn't have the school crest on it. He wondered if there was a plain black cloak in the lost property or something. Did Hogwarts even have lost property? He frowned, he'd have to ask Dobby.

He pulled the map and the invisibility cloak out to pack into his bag, and was just rummaging in his trunk for his black scarf and gloves when the door opened. He sipped around, jumpy, his wand out.

"Going to curse us Harrykins?" Teased Fred.

"You've been avoiding us," added George

Harry looked at them wearily, he really liked them, but he was a bit hesitant.

"Sorry Ron's a prat, we hexed him-" started Fred

"-good for calling you a coward though" cut in George

"We believe you though," they said together.

He blinked at them, and sagged in relief, "sorry, I just wasn't sure..." He trailed off.

"That we weren't going to turn into colossal prats too?" Said Fred.

"We don't hold it against you Harrykins," said George, "you planning some mischief then?" He asked.

Harry looked around shiftily and cast a privacy ward but didn't answer. He just turned back to his trunk and pulled out some other useful things to put into his bag; a notebook and quill, then after a moment, pulled out a small swiss army knife he nicked from Dudley's pile of forgotten junk. It was useful that one.

"Yes, but I can't tell you yet, it's not safe," Harry said after a moment, "please don't tell anyone." He begged,

They looked uncharacteristically serious for a moment.

"Of course, do you need-"

"A hand?" They said, still finishing each other's sentences.

"No, I just need to sneak out the portrait hole without anyone noticing, and for no-one to come looking if I'm not back before morning," Harry said carefully.

"We shall delight in running interference for you!" they chorused back, making harry grin.

"Do you need any other help though?" Fred asked

"With the tournament? We can help you."

"Tutor you in some of the more useful spells we've picked up of you like?"

Harry, through for a moment, "that would be great, can you help me with the Disillusionment spell?"

"Sure!" They coursed back matching grins on their faces.

"what about breaking into the Restricted section without getting caught?" Harry asked an eyebrow raised slyly.

"Our little Harrykins growing up to make mischief," George cooed wiping his eyes with mock motherly pride causing Harry snort.

"We're so proud!" Added Fred wrapping harry into an exaggerated hug.

Harry pushed them away but laughed, "thanks guys, how about duelling? You two any good? With someone out to kill me, I want to learn how to fight and fight dirty. I'm sure you two know all sorts of good things..."

"Come find us tomorrow, we'll help you out," they chorused with a manic grin as Harry disappeared under the cloak, "we'll open the portrait for you."

When Harry was out of the commonroom, and in a deserted portrait and statue free alcove, he called Dobby softly. There was a pop, and Dobby appeared.

"Winky is telling Dobby to give Mr Harry Potter this sir," the elf whisper-squeaked, holding out a packet of sandwiches.

Harry grinned, "thanks, Dobby! Thank Winky for me?" He asked, taking a half of one, before putting the rest carefully in his bag.

Casting a quick privacy ward, Harry said, "I have to sneak out, to go to Gringotts, but I was wondering if one of you would be able to keep an eye on my bed for me, and maybe come and let me know if someone starts really looking for me? They shouldn't but just in case?" Harry asked.

The elf nodded, "no one be catching Dobby unawares! You is being safe with Dobby sir!"

Harry smiled, "knew I could count on you, thanks Dobby. Another thing though, I've realised I don't have a cloak that's not got Hogwarts school crest on it. I don't want to be noticed, do we have a lost property or something I could borrow a plain travelling cloak from or something?"

"not really lost property Harry Potter sir," Dobby said slowly, "we elves's can be sensing who things belong to and can's be returning them. But there is being a room of hidden things, sir. Dobby be showing you, sir, at the come and go room, sir."

The elf popped away, and Harry quickly hurried to follow him. Using the map, he didn't run into anyone on his trip up to the 7th floor. Dobby was waiting on the seventh floor, "you is wanting the room of hidden things," he said, passing back and forth.

A door appeared, and opening it, Harry gasped. He could not help but be overawed by what he was looking at. He was standing in a room the size of a large cathedral, whose high windows were sending shafts of light down upon what looked like a city with towering walls, built of what Harry knew must be objects hidden by generations of Hogwarts inhabitants. There were alleyways and roads bordered by teetering piles of broken and damaged furniture, stowed away, perhaps, to hide the evidence of mishandled magic, or else hidden by castle-proud house-elves. There were thousands and thousands of books, no doubt banned or graffitied or stolen. There were winged catapults and Fanged Frisbees, some still with enough life in them to hover halfheartedly over the mountains of other forbidden items; there were chipped bottles of congealed potions, hats, jewels, cloaks; there were what looked like dragon eggshells, corked bottles whose contents still shimmered evilly, several rusting swords, and a heavy, bloodstained axe.

Harry had to restrain himself from exploring the many alleyways of hidden treasure. He could have easily gotten lost in here and was dying to explore and crack open some of the books. But glancing at his battered watch he really only had 20 minutes to get out of the castle and meet Bill at the Shack. He hired over to an old cloak rack and after a quick detection charm, pulled off a black cloak. It was old, worn and dusty, but it was sturdy and warm, with a deep hood. Dobby clicked his fingers, and the cloak shook itself out and appeared to be cleanly laundered and pressed.

"Thank's Dobby!" Harry exclaimed putting the cloak on. It was warm, and he could sense that it had once had warming charmed imbued into the material, or perhaps stitched runes on the collar. He'd have to try and re-activate them later. It was a bit big on him, covering his hands and reaching the floor, but when he put the hood on, it covered his face well enough that no-one would know who he was. Grinning, he folded it up and put it in his bag, so it wouldn't get dirty on his climb out of the Shack.

"Will anyone mind if I borrow this Dobby?" Harry asked, worriedly.

"No sir, everything here is either lots or hidden or forgotten it, doesn't have owners any more sir, Hogywarts is not be minding if Harry Potter claims it, sir. Hogywarts helps those who need it, sir," the elf explained in an earnest squeak.

"Thank's dobby," Harry said, heading back towards the door before adding, "thanks Hogwarts." He felt an ever so slight tingling in the magic of Hogwarts under his feet and grinned.

He was almost back at the door when something silver caught his eye. Huh, he thought, that now would be useful for keeping his bezoar on him. He pulled the bezoar out of his pocket. He had thought, after the potion lesson on poisons, that keeping a bezoar on him, while someone was out to kill him, was only a prudent idea. The object that had caught his eye was a little round cage-like spring of fine silver metal, on a leather cord. The perfect size to slip his Bezor into so he could wear it around his neck. He cautiously cast a few detection spells on it, and when it came out clean of any magic, he pulled it off the finger of an enormous stuffed troll. He pulled the spring apart enough to slip the bezoar into it before he slipped it over his head and under his shirt.

Donning the cloak and pulling the map out again, after saying goodbye to Dobby, Harry had no trouble avoiding Filch and slipping out of the castle. He was careful not to get close enough to the Willow to trigger its movement. Carefully he levitated his folded up swiss army knife and prodded the knot on the tree. It froze, and he hurried over, wishing he had managed to master the Disillusionment charm. He hadn't managed a stable one yet, but waving his wand and concentrating hard on his intent, he thought he might manage to hold it long enough, to take off the cloak and slip into the tunnel.

He looked around, he couldn't see anyone, he stuffed the cloak into his bag and slid into the tunnel before the charm broke with a cold feeling of raw egg. He shuddered and gave one of the tree's roots a friendly pat in thanks for not braining him. The tree root twitched slightly, and made a slight grabby motion around his finger, before letting him go. He grinned at it, and after one last fond pat hurried along the tunnel at a crouched run.

He lit his wand in the tunnel and was glad he had when he slipped into the shack. It was almost pitch black, with all the boarded-up windows. He slipped into the hole in the wall, and carefully climbed down the gap, his wand held gently between his teeth. It was freezing, and he hurried to wriggle out the hole at the base of the wall and slip out onto the grounds of the Shack. It was even darker outside, the sky was cloudy, coving all light from the stars and moon. Harry hurriedly vanish the dust and dirt he was covered in, his teeth chattering, and pulled on his scarf and gloves, before donning his black cloak and then the invisibility cloak over that. He hurridly cast a bunch of warming charms on his hand's feet, and on his cloak and shivered as he glanced at his watch. He had a few minutes before Bill was due to arrive. Glancing around he carefully picked his way across the grounds to the outer fence surrounding the shack, taking careful note of what was around him, so he could easily find the hole in the wall on the way back. It looked different at with the moon covered tonight.

Harry jumped a mile, and nearly hexed Bill when he apparated in with a crack. It took Harry a moment to catch his breath as his heart raced. He climbed carefully over the wire fence and went to join Bill, who was looking around as if he was checking to see if anyone was around.

Harry pulled the hood off his invisibility cloak. "Bill," he called softly from behind him suddenly feeling nervous.

Bill jumped, spun around, and grinned, "Harry!"

He wrapped Harry in a bear hug greeting. Harry, already jumpy, flinched at the contact and jerked himself back. Bill hurriedly let him go, looking concerned but to Harry's huge relief said nothing.

"Hi," Harry said awkwardly, shuffling his feet. Gods, what was it going to be like at Gringotts, what would they find out? He was so nervous about it but also so embarrassed suddenly in front of Bill too. He hadn't seen Bill since the summer, sure they had written, but Harry suddenly felt rather unsure of himself. He was no-one, nothing to Bill, who seemed so impossibly cool. Here Harry was, his ratty clothing hidden by a borrowed cloak and an invisibility cloak and there was Bill looking like something from a rock concert-like he always did. Harry felt a flush of embarrassment when he also realised how much shorter than Bill he was, he didn't even reach Bills collar bone. Bill still a good foot or two taller than him. Everyone was taller than Harry, but not normal by quite that much.

Bill seemed to catch his expression and let out a huff of a laugh and ruffled Harry's hair causing another flinch and said, "you'll grow Harry, don't worry. You just haven't hit your growth spurt yet."

"I really don't think I will," Harry said dubiously.

Bill laughed, "Sure you will," he said, reaching out and ruffling Harry's hair again.

"Hey! Don't mess it up!" Harry yelped dodging out of Bills reach, "it's hard enough to keep neat as it is! It's impossible, I hate it," he grumbled.

"Why do you keep it like that, then if you don't like it?" Bill asked with a grin.

"Not like I have much choice. It won't do anything! My aunt chopped it off when I was a kid, it grew back overnight and hasn't done anything at all since. It won't even grow and never cooperates when I try and brush it neat."

"You a metamorph?" He asked a raising a thin ginger eyebrow in askance.

"A what?" Harry asked, blankly.

"A Metamorphmagus. Charlie had a friend whose hair does things by itself when it wasn't changing colours, she had trouble keeping haircuts as well. A Metamorphmagus is someone who can change their appearance at will." Bill explained.

"That would be so useful! I could get rid of my scar! How do you learn it?" Harry asked, practically bouncing with excitement.

"You don't. It's a born ability. I can ask Charlie to get a book recommendation off Tonks, his friend if you like?" Bill said, laughing at Harry's excitement.

"Thanks, I'm writing to him already, I'll put it in my next letter. Maybe if I grow it long like yours, it might behave?" Harry asked, hopefully.

"Maybe," Bill grinned, "mine looks terrible short it sticks up all over the place, not like yours, but maybe yours will calm down when it's longer as well." Bill said, "come on, we should head off, I'll aparate us."

He moved to take Harry's arm. Slowly Harry noticed, like when Hermione wanted to hug him but didn't want to startle him too badly. It made him feel oddly warm and squirmy.

Bill gripped his arm tightly, and Harry had to force himself not to squirm at the unfamiliar gentle touch. Bills hand was warm, and it didn't hurt, like Harry expected from touch, but it still made his skin tingle. Harry only just managed to control the almost automatic impulse to pull away or flinch at the contact. Bill twisted away from him; the next thing he knew, everything went black; he was being pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his eardrums were being pushed deeper into his skull and then -

He yanked himself desperately from Bills grip. He staggered and fell over, his knees hitting the ground hard. Gasping great lungfuls of cold night air, he opened his streaming eyes and tried hard not to be sick. He felt as though he had just been forced through a very tight rubber tube. It was a few seconds before he realised that the Shrieking Shack had vanished. He bit his lip and pressed a hand over his mouth. His stomach heaved.

"You all right? Takes a bit of getting used to." Bill crouched next to him, and Harry had to desperately fight the urge to leap away out of reach. His heart was still ponding, and his head swimming.

Harry put his head between his knees and focus on just continuing to breathe, but a hand touched his back, startling him, and he was sick all over his shoes.

The hand just kept rubbing up and down his back. Smooth and steady, is warm weight burning slightly. Sure Hermione and Hagrid hugged him sometimes, but he wasn't comfortable with it. But this was almost nice. A wand switched, the sick vanished.

"That was horrible," he croaked.

Bill conjured a cup and using aguamenti, to fill it with water, "here, take a sip of that. It can be rough the first time. I didn't think to warn you sorry. I forgot you would not be familiar with it. Are you okay?"

"s'okay," Harry said, taking a drink. His head cleared a bit, comprehension catching up with his senses, Harry realized that he had just Apparated for the first time in his life. They were in the corner of a dark alley. He gapped.

"Wow, that was cool! Horrible; but cool." Harry said, putting his invisibility cloak in his bag, and pulling up the hood of his black cloak.

Bill snorted in amused agreement with the assessment, "it is pretty cool, takes getting used to but it is pretty cool," he smiled his earring catching the light.

"Do you always wear the same earing?" Harry asked, suddenly distracted by the glint of light.

"Hm? Yeah," Bill said absently as he started leading them down the street. Harry recognised the muggle London, but they were not on Charing cross Road by the Leaky Caldron.

"Why?" Harry asked curiously wondering where they were.

Bill blushed. Harry stared, what could Bill possibly have to be embarrassed about?

"Don't tell anyone, okay?" Bill said sounded sheepish, Harry nodded beyond curious now, "It's charmed to protect me from sunburn and sandflies. I burnt like a lobster in my first week in Egypt. After it stopped hurting so bad, Charlie thought it was hysterical. And as for sandflies, just... nope," he shuddered

"You can do that? With an earring?" Harry asked, intrigued, thinking of all the summers with the Dursley's where he had slaved away in the garden, burning until his pale skin had blistered and burst. He'd ended up with oozing sores one particularly hot summer. Vernon has locked him outside several days in a row and had demanded he repaint the house.

"Yep," Bill replied, "You can do all sorts of things with clothing and jewellery, especially with runes. No more than one or two things per piece depending on how big the spell is and how big the piece is and what its made of. Some things hold magic better than others. The fang was magical, so it can hold more magic than a metal stud could have, which is why it can hold the sunburn and the sandfly ward to cover all of me." Bill explained patiently as they walked into a slightly seedier back alley.

"Did you make yours?" Harry asked, curiously.

"Nah bought it, my first weekend off in Egypt back when I first started Curse breaking. They have some brilliant markets over there. You should come to visit one day. I probably could make one, though, why? Want one?" He asked, glancing down at Harry.

"Yes, please! Will you teach me?" Harry said grinning at the thought of no more sunburn when the Dursley's working him to the bone.

Bill laughed at Harry's eagerness, "okay but I'm not piercing your ear. Mum would murder me. Or how about a bracket or necklace? I could do a leather band. Or a ring?"

Harry narrowed eyes, and glared up at Bill from under his hood, "I like your mum. She's been kind to me, kept me from starving too many times over the holidays to count. But it's not up to her what I wear, or what I do to my body. I've always wanted to pierce my ears," Harry said sternly.

"Might take me a bit to get it done, no one will let me here, and you need an adult with you in the muggle world. You don't have to help me. I wasn't fishing. I was just curious, that's all," Harry said a bit defensibly not looking at Bill, but at the toes of his falling apart shoes. He wished he had something better. He felt so shabby standing next to Bill, even in his borrowed black cloak.

Bill wrapped an arm, gently around Harry and pulled him close briefly (again kindly did not ask when Harry flinched at the touch.) "That's fair enough, it wasn't a criticism. I'm the last person to criticise you on your choices and how you look," he said, letting go of Harry.

Harry wasn't sure whether to be pleased the contact had ended or mourn its loss, it was very confusing.

"I was only joking," Bill continued, "I'm happy to make you one. I can send you notes if you like. We won't have time tonight for me to show you, but I'm happy to make you an earing like mine. I really can't pierce your ears, though."

"Why?" Harry said, hesitant curiosity.

Bill looked away a bit sheepishly and mumbled, "don't like needles..."

Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, but it escaped from him a little.

"Hey!" Bill exclaimed.

Harry bit down a smile, "sorry sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, s'okay though. I get it. But needles? You're a cursebreaker!"

"Oh, hush you!" Bill said all mock outrage.

Harry grinned then asked shyly, "I'm already working on some leather bands and things, to hold protection charms and the like, to keep me safe. Would you help me?"

"Brilliant, 'course, I will. Now pay attention," he said gently, pointing out where they were.

Harry looked around, and he went on, "this is the back entrance to Knockturn Alley. We can get into Gringotts from there. It's less noticeable."

Harry looked around, noting the name of the alley they were in. Bill led him along the alley, and up to a graffitied brick wall. The graffiti almost looked like a witch's hat, a snake and a broom. Harry snickered as Bill pointed out the 3rd from centre brick, under the snake's eye, and placed his hand on it.

"You want to push your magic into it a little, to open it. It's not like Diagon where you need a wand. It's an intent ward if you mean anyone harm (Auror's are not popular here) it won't let you in." He explained to Harry.

Harry nodded, and watched as Bill's hand glowed softly for a moment, then the wall shivered, a brick wriggled, and the wall vanished. They were walked into the narrow cobblestone alley. It was dark and dirty, but the air tingled with magic. It felt alive and wild. Different from Hogwarts and Diagon which felt positively tame by comparison. Harry loved it.

"They know me here, but pull keep your hood up," Bill said, "we want to keep this secret."

Harry nodded, gripping his wand a little tighter in his hand as Bill drew his wand and after waving it over the hood of Harry's cloak before he tapped the hood with it briefly.

"It will keep your face in shadows now when you have the hood up. It already had runes in the hood, they were just old and had faded. I reactivated them for you." Bill said.

"Can you reactivate the warming charms too? Harry asked eagerly, "I'm pretty sure that's what the other magic on it is."

"Yeah sure, hang on a tick," Bill said, waving his wand around Harry is a slightly different pattern, before tapping the clasp of the cloak under his chin. Harry flinched slightly at having a wand so close to him but almost moaned when suddenly the cloak filled with warmth. For the first time all night, he stopped shivering.

"Thanks," Harry said with a slightly blissed-out smile, "Will I get in trouble if I do a quick repairing spell?" Harry asked, suddenly realising that the mending charm he'd used on his cousin's ratty shoes had worn off again. Dobby and Winky had adjusted his clothes to fit a little better, and they had patched them up a bit. It was the best he had, but he felt shabby. He shifted self consciously.

"Sure. The trace only knows who did the magic when there are no other magical registered in the area. In a magic rich area, like this, it will know underage magic was used here, but it won't know who it was as there are so many people. It only works in muggle areas as underage witch or wizard are registered to the area. They can then guess use that to figure out who did it. You won't get caught here, as they won't know who did it." Bill explained.

"You mean basically anyone, not a Muggleborn can get away with magic over the summer and the ministry would never no!" Harry exclaimed as he cast a repair charm on each of his shoes. The toes seemed to sew themselves back together, mostly. They were still filthy, ratty and too small, but at least he could no longer see all his toes peeking out.

"Pretty much," Bill said, "how do you think the twins managed to make all those prank sweets?"

"Oh! But that's so unfair," Harry mumbled flicking his wand and watching in amusement as some of the dirt flew off his shoes and into a neat pile on the tip of his wand. Harry flicked it, and it vanished.

"Come on, this way," Bill said, leading Harry down the alley and around the corner. Harry looked around eagerly. Much like Diagon, Knockturn Alley twisted and turned out of sight. Despite it being quite late now, Harry had the distinct impression that the alley was really only just starting to wake up.

"It's nocturnal this one. It's always busier at night than during the day, you get lots more unusual people here. I like it." Bill said as he led Harry through the crowd.

Again Harry wished he could look everywhere at once. The alley was less colourful than Diagon, with darker stones and woodwork, and grimmer colours. It had a much more gothic feel to it. People seemed to be more secretive here, often wearing hoods or low pulled hats. And the people! While in Diagon he'd really only seen Witches and Wizards shop there. Here Harry thought he saw some hags, a vampire or two, some Goblins and a few other people that didn't look entirely human either.

The alley twisted around and they reached a snowy white building that towered over the other shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of black and silver stood a goblin. It was a different uniform from the ones that stood outside the Diagon Alley entrance. Harry wondered if it was significant.

"This is the Knockturn entrance, the back door so to speak, to the Diagon Alley branch," Bill explained, "open from dusk till dawn, whereas Diagon is open dawn till dusk," nodding to the goblin as they entered.

There was another goblin on the inside who nodded to them as they passed. It looked much the same as the Diagon entrance. They were in a vast marble hall. Goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Bill led Harry to a counter, and Harry was suddenly hyper-aware of how he had forgotten to ask Bill about what they were doing tonight and what Bill was so worried about. How could he have he forgotten?

The goblin didn't lookup. Bill just stood patiently. Eventually, the Goblin looked up and met Bills eyes, but didn't say anything. Bill just smirked slightly but didn't say anything either.

"Greetings Cursebreaker Weasley," the goblin said eventually looking away with a smirk. Harry grinned, understanding what had just happened.

Bill looked away as well and replied, "greetings Master Teller, Harry Potter to see his account manager, please."

"So you have finally dined to grace us with your presence then?" The goblin asked glaring down at Harry disdainfully. It was how Aunt Petunia looked at him like he was filth on the bottom of her shoes. He shivered.

"I- What?" He stuttered feeling both stupid, and a little cowed under the intensity of the Goblins hate-filled glare.

"He wasn't getting-" Bill started, only to be cut off by the teller, who spoke in a slow sneer, as if Harry were stupid as well, "You have been ignoring our owls. And we couldn't talk with your escort there. He's not a potter. You have been quite rude, even more than what is normal for wizards."

"What owls? And I have written to you! The other day. I can't ignore what I haven't gotten," Harry snapped back.

The teller grinned, "ah, this one does has a spine. Well, come alone, Mr Potter, Cursbreaker Weasley."

The teller hopped off his stool and lead them along the hall at a brisk pace. Down another corridor, turning left, then right, then left again, before taking another few more turns that left Harry feeling dizzy.

Harry looked at Bill, confused. Bill just smiled as they reached a door that said, 'Rodgrip.'

The teller knocked on the door with a long knuckle.

A sharp voice called "enter."

"Curslbreaker Weasley and Mr Potter for you," the teller said before saying something in what Harry assumed must be Goblin tongue before leaving them at the door.

Bill entered, and Harry followed, peering around curiously. It was a large office, with a large oak desk. Behind it sat an older looking goblin, possibly a female harry thought, in a smart red and black uniform. The Goblin gestured to the chairs with a long-fingered hand but did not look up from her paperwork.

They sat down but said nothing. Harry remembering what he had read, and made eye contact with the goblin, when she finally looked up at them but said nothing, trying not to blink.

After what felt like a long time, the goblin blinked and said, "well met Cursebreaker Weasley, Mr Potter. What brings you here?"

"Well met Master Rodgrip," Harry greeted tentatively hoping he wasn't messing up.

Bill nodded at him subtly, in reassurance, so he continued, "I was entered into the tri wizard tournament against my will. I need to find a copy of the contract so I can figure out exactly what I have been bound to. I owled Bill for help. I then learnt that I have been kept in the dark about practically everything. I was raised by muggles. I didn't know anything about the magical world before my letter. I didn't get any of the introduction packs. Apparently, I have a magical guardian. Apparently, I have an account manager, but I've never even heard either. People act like my family is rich, but I thought it was just my vault and that's only enough to last school if I'm careful and maybe long enough for me to find a job if I'm as frugal as I can be. And I have been careful. Really!" he said earnestly, not wanting to them to think he was whining.

"I'm working on fixing my ignorance. I've been reading to catch up. Master Ripquills book was brilliant! But I think there is something or someone sinister behind it. There's something wrong with my magic, I can't feel it. Things are happening at school, but whenever I try and ask for help, people dismiss me or forget. Something's wrong, and I thought Gringotts may be able to help with the contract if nothing else." Harry finished in a rush, twisting his fingers in his lap.

"I also have reason to suspect that his home life is not the greatest, Fred and George and I have tried in the past to look into it and were blocked at every turn." Bill added making Harry looked up sharply, "it's very worrying that Harry doesn't know anything, highly suspect." bill finished

"That is worrying." Rodgrip, "Mail redirection wards. It's not legal to prevent Gringotts mail. It would explain a lot... especially why you have been ignoring our requests to meet. But once a minor is at Hogwarts age, it is not legal to have a mail ward like you would seem to have without their knowledge and permission. Not even a guardian can keep their male from them against their will," Rodgrip said harshly, "And in your ignorance didn't know that you are never to give your key to another. That can be fixed for a fee."

"As for your finances, your parents were very rich, has no-one discussed this with you?" Rodgrip asked, pulling out a thick lever file from a draw in her desk.

"Er...no," Harry shook his head.

The Goblin sighed before saying, "That is incorrect. We will have to go over your inheritance and your finances today while you are here. I am coming to suspect you will need the complete basic testing done too, to see how much of a mess you're in" Rodgrip explained, flipping through the file looking for something.

"Can I afford these tests?" Harry asked dubiously as she stopped flipping through the file.

"You can," she said, running a long bony finger down a page in reference, "I cannot say much until we have proved you are who you say you are. But I can say you can afford the tests. You may not be able to access any of your family's money until you are older, and your trust is tightly controlled by your guardian. But your health and well being is provided for by the family vault, as stated in the Potter Gringotts Charter. This means all fees to the bank are automatically taken out when authorised by yourself and your account manager."

Harry slump in his chair in relief, things were happening now, he was able to do something now, "thank the gods, thank you, Master Rodgrip, I do appreciate it."

"Polite too for a human could be stuck with worse, I suppose" Rodgrip muttered with a nasty grin that Harry could sympathise with. He knew what it was like to expect people to hate you and be horrible. It was very cathartic to see someone else, an adult with as low an opinion of people as he did.

"But," Rodgrip continued, "first we need to confirm you are who you say you are and not under any controlling magic," pulling out quills, paper, a knife, and a ritual bowl, from her desk.

"I am," Harry said morosely, "I could work out we were under magic - Hermione and I - but not the specifics so we haven't been able to break it yet."

"What?" cried Bill

But Rodgrip ignored him and continued, "Well we need to figure out the extent of this mess then" she went on, "you should have been getting statements, and you should have been brought here by your guardian. They should have explained about your finances and your family or at least organised your account manager, me, to do it for them. Here," the goblin finished holding out a quill and parchment.

Harry picked it up, it was black with a sharp nib. It's magic felt odd, harsh.

"What do I write with it?" He asked.

"Just your name," Bill explained, "It's a blood quill, normal only used for signing documents and contracts, illegal anywhere else except Gringotts. This one is enchanted to do a simple identity ritual. You write your name, it will take your blood. Unlike an ordinary one it won't cut into the back of your hand, it just takes some blood and its mixed with a potion it uses for ink."

Harry frowned at it a moment, before starting to write his name. There was a sting as the quill seemed to make a small cut on the back of his hand. There was a slight delay, but it produced a dark brown ink. He put the quill down, the ink glowed, and the quill jumped up and started writing again. It crossed out his name and instead wrote:

" Harry James Potter

Hadrian James Evens-Potter

Born : 31st July 1984

Age : 14 years, 3 months, 14 days

Currently under spells

Currently under potions

Currently tied to wards

Currently under bindings

Debts, vows and contracts applicable

Health : poor

Paternal inheritance from James Charlus Potter:

The Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter - Heir to Lordship and vaults, 7 Wizengamot votes, trust vault

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black - Member of House Black

Godfather Inheritance from Sirius Orion Black:

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black - Heir to Lordship and vaults, trust vault, 6 Wizengamot votes

Maternal Inheritance from Lily Marie Evens-Potter:

The Most Noble and most Ancient house of Slytherin - Heir to Lordship and vaults, 7 Wizengamot votes

The Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Gryffindor - Heir to Lordship and vaults, 7 Wizengamot votes

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black - Member of House Black

Magical guardian:

Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore - corrupt 31st October 1985

Sirius Orion Black - forcibly removed 31st October 1985

Muggle guardian:

Petunia Dursley - grudgingly 1st November 1985."

Notes:

I'd say I'm sorry for leaving it there. But I'm not.

So I've bent and added to Centaur lore a little.  
When Firenze says "on your Sunday," he really means on the day harry calls Sunday. Centaurs do not use human day names to track the course of time. They are familiar with them though. Pretty sure Centaurs have their own language (in this story anyway.) Not sure yet. But they don't use days of the week and months, they track things by the moon, so January is wolf moon ect. And they would track the weeks ect by the phase of the moon I should think. They have no need for day names. Hence 'your Sunday.'

mars is bringer of battle, its been bright for years.  
Vega has also been bright in the sky recently (by centaur reconning, so a few years but not as long as mars) is the brightest star in the constellation Lyra (music) and is sometimes seen as a falling eagle. Could be seen as doom, in reference to several things.  
Vega is sometimes also associated with as a minor deity, Vanant, who's name means concoror. Food for though.  
Firenze and Bane have both interpreted its brightness, slightly differently as what its falling could be in reference to. Divination is after all not always 100 spot on.  
en . wikipedia wiki / Vega # Etymology _and _cultural _significance

So, there is some debate over the date of HP#1, many agree it was set in 1991. But I have gone with 1995 as the date points we have just makes more sense that way. Below is a link to a super interesting essay that explains it.  
www . hp-lexicon 2004 / 03 / 13 / mapping- the- harry- potter- timeline /

I know FFnet doesn't like links so if you can't get them to work, head over to Archeive of our own, same story and aurthor names, and the links will work better there. I have to admit I prefer the archive.

I have also taken some liberties with the potter family, and bent cannon lore in regards to that a little bit, where it suits me, especially with some names and things.

Actually I've made up some stuff in regards to how the Wizengamot works too. It will be explained later, much later.


	15. Chapter 15 Results and Revelations

NOTES

This one is for Clive54 - don't worry I won't talk about cricket or rugby, I think I thankfully missed out of the auzzy sport mania ? Eucalyptus trees though, well I won't get started on how awesome they are.

A list of detailed trigger warnings at the end if you want to check them

Happy reading 

"My name's not Hadrian," Harry blurted out.

Rodgrip glared at him, "of course it is," she said bluntly.

"No, it's not. I was told it I was to answer to Harry Potter," he said, twisting and pulling at his fingers.

He had spent weeks in his first year of primary school getting yelled at for not answering the name his primary school teacher had given him, Harry Potter. He had been so used to being called boy or freak... He hadn't known he would get a different name at school, but he figured Harry was better than boy or freak though.

"What do you mean you were told," Bill said with a frown.

"When I started school, I was given… I mean, I was told that my name was Harry Potter," Harry stuttered hesitantly. "I didn't know I had a middle name still professor McGonagall used it to yell at me." Harry hedged twinging his fingers together some more, not entirely understanding why Bill was so confused.

"Well, now you know your true name," Rodgrip cut in before Bill could say anything else. "You can think on what you would prefer to be called. Many wizards are called something slightly different names from their true name. We clearly need to look at your magical guardians and your muggle ones."

Rodgrip sneered nastily. "Moronic wizards not even able to look after their young properly."

She muttered something in goblin tongue that Harry thought was probably not very nice. Whatever it was, it had Bill sniggering, and Harry hid a smile. It was nice seeing an adult angry on his behalf. The fact it was a goblin adult didn't matter.

Ignoring the inheritance for a moment, Harry was not surprised that he was under all sorts of magic; disappointed but not surprised. Dumbledore was his guardian. He had suspected but hoped it wasn't. That would have made Dumbledore responsible for so much of Harry's hardship. Fear kindled in his gut, smouldering quietly.

He sighed, "Dumbledore, I had wondered how much he was behind, but..." Harry trailed, "I didn't think he was actually my guardian, I had never even heard of him before I got my Hogwarts letter. How could he have been my guardian? And what does corrupt mean in that context?"

"It means he has forced guardianship or that he was not meant to be your guardian or both," Rodgrip explained with a huff of irritation.

"How does that work?" Harry asked

"It is likely that in the death of your parents, Sirius Black automatically became your guardian. He was your godfather, so magic would have automatically named him your guardian. But it seems like Dumbledore forcibly overrode it. Black was not taken to Azkaban until 2nd November. Now, even if he was cleared, he is no longer well enough to be your guardian even if he wasn't on the run from the law."

Harry slumped, he felt like someone had gripped his heart and pulled it down into his belly. He was never going to get to live with Sirius. Even if Sirius did manage to pull his socks up and be the adult Harry needed, he was never going to be Harry's guardian. Harry would never get away from the Dursleys. His eyes burned, and he clenched his jaw, his nails digging into his palms as he willed himself, not to care.

"Oh..." Harry asked, pleased that he managed to keep his voice steady.

"He hasn't done a very good job. The into books said guardians were in charge of your health and well being as well as making sure minors were not being taken advantage of, that they were protected. He'd never done any of that," Harry said, fighting against fury rising in his throat.

"In fact," Harry continued, "I think he'd done a bunch of horrible things, including making sure I'm kept hungry at Hogwarts. I know I'm under spells and potions - it would not surprise me if Dumbledore placed them. What can I do to stop Dumbledore being my guardian?"

"You will need a solicitor to get rid of him as your guardian, at the moment you have neither the money or the power to go up against the chief warlock. He would slip out of any charges you tried to bring him up on." Rodgrip said.

Harry allowed himself to slump in his chair, clenching his fists. "Well, I guess I'll just have to gather as much evidence against him in the meantime. What do the inheritances mean, do I have a family?" he asked hopefully, "it lists potter and black, but I thought the Gryffindor and Slytherin lines had died out?"

"They had gone dormant, apparently no longer. We will have to look into it and see how you are related to them. We will need a full inheritance tree test for that. I'll add it to the others, here," she said, getting a knife out and crossing over to Harry.

Rodgrip rounded the desk and approached Harry, a knife in one hand, reaching for Harry's hand in the other. Harry jumped and jerked back in alar, his eyes wide.

"Not to be rude or anything," Harry stuttered out in a rush, not taking his eyes off the goblins long fingers and the knife, "but what are you going to do?"

"I'm doing some medical testing on you obviously," Rodgrip spat out, the 'you moron,' going unspoken, "What? You think I'm going to eat you, wizard?" She sneered, "you lot are all the same, thinking we're dirt beneath your feet."

"No! I don't think that!" Harry stuttered before Bill could intervene, "Of course I don't think you eat humans, what kind of idiot do you take me for? Even if you did or do, you're smart enough to not get caught, or let it get out. We both know I would not be a good choice. So no, I don't think you're going to eat me. I'm irritatingly well known, it would be noticed if I went missing. Plus I'm skin and bone, I wouldn't even eat me."

The Goblin and Bill all let out a snort of laughter. "Your rather funny, almost intelligent for a human," Rodgrip said with another sneer after a moment.

"I've just never seen a doctor, I mean healer! Not a magical one. I just don't know what to expect from a healer, I've never been to one, not really. I don't know what you do! And you're coming at me with a Knife!"

"Your guardian is deficient" Rodgrip stated with another snort, "we shall be gathering evidence."

"We can somehow record the fact, I've never seen a healer?" Harry asked eagerly, "I know I don't have any records in the muggle world we could use."

"The medical history will record any untreated issues you have had over the years," Rodgrip said.

"Not even made Pomfrey?" Bill cut in astounded.

"Erm," Harry said, shifting awkwardly in his chair, tugging on his fingers again, "she did a quick spell once, and muttered something and gave me a potion. She said I needed shots but then forgot when I came back for the appointment. She's never really told me anything, and I'm nearly always knocked out first. I've only been to her twice other than that. Even for my arm with Lockhart, she knocked me out before anything happened. When I wake up, and she sends me out. I know nothing about any kind of healing, just that muggle doctors are horrible, and it hurts."

"That is not good," Bill said slowly, "it's not meant to hurt normally."

"I don't mind it hurting," Harry said quickly, not wanting them to think him a baby, "I'm not complaining or whining! I just would rather know first, so I can, you know, expect it."

"Not an unreasonable request," Rodgrip, said slowly, "Healing is nothing like that. Even Humans should not treat people like that. But I will agree to your request, though it is not our way. I am going to do several tests. Other than pricking your finger for some blood, it should not hurt. The tests will tell me everything that is possibly wrong with you, was ever wrong with you as well as any genetic dispositions you have. The magic does feel invasive to humans, I am told. But it should not hurt. Tell me if it does." She sharply looking Harry in the eye to make sure he understood.

He nodded, "thank you, Master Rodgrip, I appreciate it."

They tested his magic first. He pricked his finger again and dabbed the blood onto Rodgrip's thumb and forefinger. She then touched a bloody finger to Harry's forehead, chanted something in Goblin tongue before making an odd pinching motion with her long fingers. Harry felt magic rush into him, foreign and not at all familiar. It seemed to ooze into him, and something squirmed inside. It ached. He bit his lip so not to let out a noise, as Rodgrip slowly withdrew her pinched fingers. Something wispy and almost see-through followed. It felt as if she was pulling something out of him, a slow deep ache. He rubbed his chest as she touched a quill to the substance. The quill shivered, absorbed the wispy substance and then started writing frantically on a piece of parchment.

"That should not have hurt as it did," Rodgrip said looking at the parchment, "it doesn't bode well for the health of your cor, Wizard, and from the results, you have quite the mess on your hands" she continued with frowning down at the parchment.

"I thought so," Harry said dully, "I can't feel my magic at all, other magic yes but not my own."

"Hmm," she said, "that is concerning, we will do spells and potions next,"

"Wait, there are more? You can't do it all at once?" Harry asked, rubbing his aching chest.

"Of course, there is more than one!" Rodgrip snapped, "we cannot just click our fingers and magically know and fix everything. You wizards are so impatient."

"There will be a full Spell, Health, Potions, Vows, Inheritance, Warding, Magic testing." Bill cut in, "Then we will look at your finances and Inheritance as well as treatment and the tournament contract to get an idea of the full extent of this," Bill explained.

"Ah, sorry Master Rodgrip, I meant no offence," Harry said

Rodgrip sneered but said nothing. She repeated the process twice more using different chants each time, the sensation of her magic did not lessen in discomfort and seemed to only start hurting more the more he was exposed to it. The quills this time seemed to keep writing for far longer than the first time.

"The spells will first list what is currently affecting you, before continuing with all the spells ever cast upon you. The other is the same, but concerning potions. They seem to be uncharacteristically long, especially for one of your age." Rodgrip said peering at him curiously, frowning, "Health next, again it will also take a history."

She made the pinching magic again, the magic seemed different this time. It was as if it was looking at his physical body this time not just his soul and magic. It ached deep in his bones. He let out a groan that he couldn't quite bite back, and tipped forward, his head coming to rest on the edge of Rodgrip desk. It was blessedly cool against his hot forehead.

The health parchment seemed to just keep going, and going, and going rolling off the bed and onto the floor and stopping at the goblin's feet.

"Oh Harry," Bill murmured, sounding very worried. Bill put a hand on the feverish boy's shoulder, but Harry flinched away startled. Bill frowned and looked at Rodgrip. She frowned, and pushing Harry back upright repeated the pinching motion one last time, this parchment was only afoot.

Rodgrip handed the knife to Harry again. Knowing what to expect this time, he pricked his finger again and let her dab the blood on her fingers. She dabbed some on his neck, and made a pinching motion there, before pulling away and tapping a quill, which sprang up and started scribbling.

"This is half of it the ward-analysis tied to you, we will also have to analyse the house itself, or whatever properties that the wards tied to you are tied to," Rodgrip said, "that is a job for one of the curse breakers though."

She waved a hand, and all the scrolls split themselves into neat sheets and then stacked themselves. Another flick of her wrist duplicated each stack. "One set for the manager, me, and one for you," she said to Harry.

Harry nodded but didn't say anything waiting as the residual ache of the magic wore off. It didn't wear off, but he just took a deep breath and concentrated on pushing it aside so he could breathe again.

It didn't make the pain stop or go away, but by pushing it into a little corner with the rest, he was able to ignore it.

Rodgrip said handing over a bowl and a knife, "49 drops,"

"Pardon?" Harry asked.

"You need 49 for a detailed list of how you are related to those lines," bill explained, "it can then be taken to a tapestry maker to make a Magical Tapestry of your Family tree."

"Oh, wow, I've always wanted to know my family," Harry said wistfully.

"The test will produce a detailed family tree on parchment that the tapestry weaver then uses to make up a full tapestry. There is quite a bit of magic involved to get the faces of the family members and such. It's quite the art," rod grip explained exasperatedly.

"Let's do that then," Harry said, making a cut on his hand and carefully counting out the drops. It took a while, and he had to make a second cut to get them all. Bill healed it for him, while Rodgrip chanted over the ritual bowl which was floating over a small flame before she added some herbs and powders. She stirred the potion with a quill for a moment. Harry jumped as the potion suddenly caught fire, turning purple. When the fire had burnt out, the potion was deep blue and was being absorbed by the somehow un-harmed quill. A large sheet of parchment appeared, and the quill started frantically scribbling.

Harry watched it curiously. It started with his name, and drew a line up to his parents, James Phinus Fleemon Potter married Lily Marie Evans Potter. His grandparents were Marie Daisy Evans and Harrold George Evans on his mother's side, and as Charlus Fleamont Potter and Dorea Euphemia Black Potter on his father's side.

He was related to Sirius! He watched as the names went back. His grandmother was a black, the daughter of Lysandra Yaxley and Aracticus Black, the son of Phineus Nigelus, the Hogwarts headmaster. His father's father, however, was a descendant of Hardwin Potter, son of Linfred of Stinchcom who seemed to be the first Potter. Hardwin had married a Peverel daughter though, Iolanthe, daughter of Ignatius Peverel and the Peverells appeared to go back even further.

Harry wasn't sure where he knew the name Peverell, but he could have sworn he saw it somewhere before. He didn't recognise any of the names on his mother's side though. Until after a long while he noticed the name Slytherin and Gryffindor. His mum was a muggleborn though, how on earth did she descent from them? Maybe from a squib line? He'd heard a theory that most muggleborns were from squib lines.

"It could be at it for a while," Bill said, "it should go way back."

"What does this mean, me being the heir? The books didn't talk much about nobility. If I'm heir, does that mean I have family?"

"We cannot talk about Slytherin or Gryffindor as you have not been accepted into the family through the induction ritual and heir ritual yet. That cannot be done until you are free of other magics. You will have records and things in the vaults, diary and the like to train you to take on the family mantles. It's not something I can explain to you, Goblins do not meddle in the offers of wizards just manage their finances. I can say, all purebloods are related in some way. You are quite wealthy, you have a black family trust vault as a member of the black family through your paternal grandmother as well as through your godfather, who before his incarceration was the heir to the House of Black. He took you as his heir and as a member of the family, which makes you the Black heir as he is no longer eligible, after being in Azkaban. Long term dementor exposure can damage your core. You also have seats on the Wizengamot that will be your when you turn 17, from both the Potter and Black houses.

"Who has them now?" Harry asked

"As your father did not set a proxy formally for House Potter, nor did your grandfather before he died, I do not know. You will have to look up the Wizengamot laws and approach the ministry for the details to find out if someone is voting for you, it could well be your magical guardian.

"Dumbledore..." Harry groaned

"Yes, again you'll need to find a solicitor if you wish to oppose the decisions he has made with your house."

"Right. Did my parents have a will?

"Your mother yes, but it was suppressed. Your father, not a proper one no. He was convinced he would not need one, as no-one could find them in the Fidelius. Like most wizards, he was arrogant and thought nothing could touch him. He scrubbed a quick note on his wishes to Dumbledore. But it was not a legal will. However, Dumbledore ignored the fact that as your father died first, it's your mothers will that would decide your future."

"Perhaps that's why it was suppressed?" asked Harry

"Possibly. Anyhow your father left everything in Dumbledore's care if your mother died first. Dumbledore used the note to illegally gain possession of your guardian. Your mother's is in her vault, you cannot access it at this stage."

"Why?" Harry asked, disappointed.

"The magic does not allow it. If your parents are not there to induct you as family properly through ritual traditionally at your 7th birthday, as yours are not, you will need to perform a ritual to accept any family the inheritance test finds. If you are under magic at that point, the family magics in the ritual will reject you, and you can only try it once. Not all things automatically pass down from parents to children, you need to ritually accept them. Without a will, you must go through the heritage ritual. If there was a will, it would be just a matter of blood to open the vault wards. The will would be magically binding and would pass them on to you magically. But as you don't have that, you need to do the ritual."

"And what of my trust vault at the moment? You said Dumbledore controlled it tightly? What does that mean, and how much of my movements here does he know of." Harry asked curiously

"The family vaults will become open to you at your 17th birthday, or when you become emancipated. Even if you do become emancipated, you cannot take up any lordships until you reach 17. It's the rules. You were given a black trust and a potter trust at birth, but Dumbledore combined them into one when he took over guardianship. He has set a limit on your trust of 100G a year. This is despite the vault gaining more than that amount each year from the family vaults of both houses, along with interest." Rodgrip explained, "You can apply for more, but will have to go through him. Like you said, it will suffice per year for supplies if you are frugal, and get second-hand things. It will not stretch to any other books or the like. He will not be informed of anything unless you take more than the allowed 100G a year. He is also allowed to withdraw money for your care from the family vault though."

"I never got a penny growing up!" Harry spat angrily, "If he's taken it I haven't seen any of it. How much did Mrs Weasleys take out earlier this year, when getting my school books? Is there enough left over for me to get the Muggleborn introduction books?"

"We will do a full audit and make sure your 'guardian,'" she sneered, "has not pilfered anything he shouldn't. We are bound by the charter to follow some of the ministry's mandate and therefore have to listen to him in regards to you to an extent, like giving him statements for your trust and letting him control your trust, but we can make sure he has not removed any artefacts from the family vaults. If he has, we can use it as an excuse to finally bar him access."

"Can I go to my vaults?"

"Just your trust."

"So I have more vaults?"

"Yes, the Potters had a large currency vault and a large items vault full of heirlooms and such.

"But he can get to my family on, though I can't?" Harry asked

"Yes, but he can not take money from it." Rodgrip said, before continuing, "We can use the audit to recall all family artefacts to the vault, which we have been wanting to do for a while but have not been unable to without you. This year Mrs Weasley took out the full 100Gs."

"Oh, that's disappointing. Dumbledore had my invisibility Cloak till the Christmas of my first year. I hate to think what else he has and hasn't told me about." Harry said, "What do the results say, I can imagine that they will only confirm my suspicions."

"What suspicions do you have young Wizard?" Rodgrip asked with a shrewd expression.

"Promise you won't say a word to anyone," Harry said, turning to Bill.

"All meetings with your account manager are confidential. All work I do with Gringotts is confidential as covered my oaths to Gringotts. But I will also promise you that I will not now, or ever use anything I learn about you against you, especially not here at Gringotts in my capacity as your Your Human Adviser. The post is also bound by confidentiality clauses that are in the contract we signed" Bill said earnestly looking at Harry.

Harry looked at him for a moment, searching his face before he nodded slowly, "I thought so, but I just wanted to be certain."

"I'm on your side," Bill said with a soft smile.

"Right," Harry said, taking a breath before explaining, "I know I'm under magic to control me, spells and potions, and there's something wrong with my magic. It feels wrong. I think Dumbledore's behind it. It makes even more sense if he's my magical guardian. I think he's set me up to be badly treated, then be kept ignorant and stupid, it would make it easier for him to play me like a fiddle. I think all the times I've been under threat at Hogwarts, he was behind, I think he knew. He knew at let it all happen anyway as some kind of test maybe. I don't know why, but he wants something from me, he wants to make me into something, probably to do with Voldemort. Dumbledore's using me, for his own... I don't know! But I want out. I will not let him control and dictate my life anymore! He is not a good man, not nearly as deserving of the revere people give him as he wants us to think. At least with me, he has a lot to answer for." Harry said in a rush.

"Well, he is your magical guardian, and on that account has much to answer for," Bill said, "what did the results say, Master Rodgrip?"

Rodgrip went to sit back behind her desk and started leafing through a stack of test results. Harry grabbed the other set and Bill after raising an eyebrow in askance, peering over his shoulder to read them as well.

"**Magical Core test of Hadrian James Evans-Potter**

**Magical Core Status of one Hadrian James Evans-Potter:**

Poor (positively mangled)

Core bound, binding removal advisable.

**Magics Upon Core:**

Sacrificial Maternal Blood Protection Shield - 31st October 1985 (age 1)

Caster: Lily Marie Evans-Potter

Status: Mostly Degraded

Currently focused: binding Soul leach

Parasitic soul leach of Tom Marvolo Riddle - 31st October 1985 (age 1)

Caster: Tom Marvolo Riddle

Status: Contained by Sacrificial Maternal Blood Protection

Core leach to Power blood wards - 1st November 1985 (age 1)

Caster: Unclear (magic too degraded)

Status: Partially Degraded

Core block - 1st November 1985 (age 1)

Caster: Unclear (magic too degraded)

Status: Partially Degraded

Metamorphmagic block- 5th September 1989 (age 5)

Caster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Status: Partially Degraded

Anti-apparition Block - 5th November 1991 (age 7)

Caster: Unclear (magic too degraded)

Status: Partially Degraded

Core block

5th November 1991 (age 7)

9th January 1992 (aged 8)

15th March 1993 (aged 9)

30th August 1995 (aged 11)

Caster: Unclear (magic too degraded)

Status: Partially Degraded

Mental Magic Block - 24th August 1998 (aged 14)

Caster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Status: Partially Degraded

**Percentage of magic blocked:** 53% of the original 70% blocked

Ability to remove: difficult due to mutation of magics upon the core.

**Magical aptitude: **Talent in Mind arts, Talent in Metamorphmagic and Genetic Animagus potential

**Recommended further testing:** Spells, Potions, Ward-analysis & health test

**Additional Recommendation: **Purging, Cleansing and Bond Breaking"

Harry frowned, half of it he wasn't too sure about, but the other half couldn't be anything good. He flipped over to the next test.

"**Advanced Warding Test of all Wards tied to one Hadrian James Evans-Potter**

Blood Wards based off Sacrificial Maternal Blood Protection Shield upon one No.4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey - 31st October 1985 (age 1)

Caster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Status: Full Power

Self Powered Blood Wards upon one No.4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey - originally 5th December 1985 (age 1)

Caster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (continually reapplied)

Ward Status: quality poor, strength weak

Anti-Owl & Re-Direction ward upon one Hadrian James Evans-Potter - 31st October 1985 (age 1)

Caster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Ward Status: Strong

Exception list:

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore - 31st October 1985 (age 1)

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Heads - 22nd July 1991 (aged 10)

Snowy Owl (Hedwig) - 31st July 1995 (aged 11)

Rubius Hagrid - 31st July 1995 (aged 11)

Weasley family - 1st October 1995 (aged 11)

Hermione Jean Granger - 1st November 1995 (aged 11)

Great Grey Owl (Errol) 1st June 1996 (aged 11)

Sirius Orion Black - 7th June 1998 (aged 13)

Notice-me-ward upon one Hadrian James Evans-Potter - 22nd July 1995 (aged 10)

Caster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Ward Status: Strong but Degrading

Target: Wizarding Population specifically 'watch and scrutinise' Harry Potter the boy-who-lived.'

Property analysis required for specifics."

"No wonder I can never go unnoticed, and people are always bloody staring at me," Harry muttered flipping over to the next test, half-heartedly hoping it would have better results, but knowing it wouldn't. The Spells Test. Again it listed the type of spells on him and when they were cast. But interestingly enough, there wasn't always a caster or a status listed. Harry wondered why.

"**Spell test of Hadrian James Evans-Potter**

**Advanced targeted Notice-Me-Not Hex:**

Target: Muggles noticing anything odd about Harry Potter - in particular, authorities - Cast 1st November 1985 (age 1)

Target: Wizards noticing anything odd about Harry Potter - in particular noticing he's anything but loved and cared for - Cast 1st November 1985 (age 1)

**Confundus charm:**

multiple - beginning 5th September 1989 (age 5)

Obliviate Charm:

multiple - beginning 5th September 1989 (age 5)

**Impulsive charm:**

30th August 1995 (aged 11)

25th December 1995 (aged 11)

4th June 1996 (aged 11)

30th August 1996 (aged 12)

18th December 1996 (aged 12)

30th August 1997 (aged 13)

30th August 1997 (aged 14)

Caster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Status: Strong but Degrading

**Compulsion charms:**

1st November 1985 (age 1)

Compulsion to see the Dursley's house as home

Caster: Unknown

Status: Broken

30th August 1995 (aged 11)

Compulsion to be in Gryffindor house

Compulsion to argue with Slytherins students

Compulsion to save people

Compulsion to solve mysteries

Compulsion to be nosey

Caster: Unknown

Status: Broken

25th December 1995 (aged 11)

Compulsion to try invisibility cloak

Compulsion to find the mirror

Compulsion to solve mysteries

Compulsion to save people

Caster: Unknown

Status: Broken

4th June 1996 (aged 11)

Compulsion to rescue the stone

Compulsion to defeat Voldemort

Compulsion to solve mysteries

Compulsion to save people

Caster: Unknown

Status: Broken

7th June 1996 (aged 11)

Compulsion to stay at No.4 Privet Drive Little Winging Surrey

Compulsion to see the No.4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey as home

Compulsion to see the Dursley family as family

Caster: Unknown

Status: Broken

30th August 1996 (aged 12)

Compulsion to save people

Compulsion to solve mysteries

Compulsion to be nosey

Caster: Unknown

Status: Broken

18th December 1996 (aged 12)

Compulsion to save people

Compulsion to solve mysteries

Compulsion to be nosey

Compulsion to defeat Voldemort

Caster: Unknown

Status: Broken

12th February 1997 (aged 12)

Compulsion Read me

Caster: Tom Marvolo Riddle

Status: Broken

29th May 1997 (aged 12)

Compulsion to stay at No.4 Privet Drive Little Winging Surrey

Compulsion to see the No.4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey as home

Compulsion to see the Dursley family as family

Caster: Unknown

Status: Broken

30th August 1997 (aged 13)

Compulsion to save people

Compulsion to solve mysteries

Compulsion to be noisy

Caster: Unknown

Status: Broken

29th May 1998 (aged 13)

Compulsion to stay at No.4 Privet Drive Little Winging Surrey

Compulsion to see the No.4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey as home

Compulsion to see the Dursley family as family

Caster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Status: Degraded

30th August 1998 (aged 14)

Compulsion to save people

Compulsion to solve mysteries

Compulsion to be noisy

Caster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Status: Partially Degraded

30th October 1999 (aged 14)

Compulsion to Obey

Compulsion to Obey

Caster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Status: Degraded

**Hatred Hex:**

1st November 1985 (age 1)

7th June 1996 (aged 11)

Target: Dursley Family (trigger word, boy)

Caster: Unknown

Status: Broken

30th August 1995 (aged 11)

Target: Severus Prince Snape (trigger word, Potter!)

Target: Slytherin House

Target: Schoolwork

Target: Intelligence

Caster: Unknown

Status: Broken

30th September 1995 (aged 11)

Target: Draconis Lucious Malfoy

Caster: Unknown

Status: Broken

30th August 1996 (aged 12)

Target: Severus Prince Snape (trigger word, Potter!)

Target: Slytherin House

Caster: Unknown

Status: Broken

18th December 1996 (aged 12)

Target: Draconis Lucious Malfoy

Caster: Unknown

Status: Broken

29th May 1997 (aged 12)

Target Dursley Family (trigger word, boy)

Caster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Status: Degraded

30th August 1997 (aged 13)

Target: Severus Prince Snape (trigger word, Potter!)

Target: Slytherin House

Target: Draconis Lucious Malfoy

Caster: Unknown

Status: Broken

30th August 1998 (aged 14)

Target: Severus Prince Snape (trigger word, Potter!)

Target: Slytherin House

Target: Draconis Lucious Malfoy

Caster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Status: Degrading

**Parasites:**

Multiple - Magic testing ritual advised

**Blocks:**

Multiple - Magic testing ritual advised

**Recommended tests:**

Ward-analysis

Mind magic ritual

Cleansing immediately recommended."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep, steadying breath. There was a burning aching in his chest. How much of him was real? He kept reading the surprisingly long list of his spell history containing not every spell he had cased, but every spell ever cast on him. He knew the hexing he endured in the corridors back in his second year, and this year was terrible, but he hadn't realised just how bad.

He also had totally forgotten that Gryffindor had taken to hexing him in punishment back in first year after all the points he had lost over Norbert. He was surprised to see one or two foreign hexes on there too. They only saw the international students in the hall for meals, they seemed to take all their classes in their Ship/Carriage. Other than the odd nasty look, they seemed to believe he would not stand a chance and was beneath their notice. He hadn't realised how many of them had gotten a hex in. No wonder some of them had been so difficult to undo.

He moved to the potion test. These ones had the types and dates of the potions but did not say who was responsible. Harry could guess who had administered it though, Dumbledore. He wondered if Snape had brewed them. But he had repeatedly tried to save Harry's life...

"**Potion test of Hadrian James Evans-Potter**

Notoriously-Intense-Nutrition

Skellegrow

**Complex manipulation Potions of spell class:**

Distrust

Keyed to Severus Prince Snape (trigger word, Potter! Dunderhead)

Keyed to Draconis Lucious Malfoy (trigger word, Potter, Potty, Weasel, Mudblood)

Keyed to Slytherin House (trigger word, Potter Gryffindor)

Compulsion potion - obey without question

Keyed to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (trigger word, Harry, my boy)

Loyalty potions

Keyed to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (trigger word, Harry, my boy)

Love potion (Amorfamilia)

Keyed to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (trigger word, Harry, my boy)

**Complex manipulation potions of compulsion class:**

Impulsiveness

Bravery

Anti-self preservation

Self-sacrificing

Loyalty potions

Keyed to Gryffindor house

Keyed to Ronald Billius Weasley

Keyed to Weasley family (minor)

Keyed to Sirius Orion Black (minor)

Keyed to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (minor)

Love potion (Amorfamilia)

Keyed to Weasley family

Keyed to Gryffindor house

Purging immediately recommended."

He took another breath, trying to fight down a slimy sick feeling in his gut, looked to the Medical test.

"Medical History of Hadrian James Evans-Potter

**Current overall health:**

extremely poor - contributing to a mild state of constant magical exhaustion and mental fatigue

**Prevalent issues:**

Vision - extremely poor

Various levels of damage to hand and foot bones - healed incorrectly

Multiple Broken or fractured bones - healed incorrectly (see history for rill list)

Multiple cracked and broken ribs - only some treated

Multiple skull fractures - treated poorly

Basilisk Venom

Contained by Pheonix Tears

Repeated magical exhaustion (see lower history)

History of Pneumonia and bronchitis - leaving scarring on the lungs and throat (see lower history)

History of Concussion (see lower history)

Treatment immediately recommended

**Chronic malnutrition causing the following:**

Poor bone density

Poor immune system

Stunted growth - likely permanent

Delayed Development

Iron, Calcium, Vitamin Deficiencies

Treatment immediately recommended

**Potions recommended: **

Notoriously-Intense-Nutrition Potion

Immuno-stimulate

Skelegrow

(at the least)"

It then it proceeded to list every injury he had ever had and seemed to comprise of at least 20 pages of minuscule writing. Most of them started from 1st November 1981, after his parents had died and he'd been left at the Dursleys. It even listed every scar he had and what caused it, and why it scared. It listed what treatment he should have had for every hurt he'd had. He had no idea it was possible to scar from nappy rash… He had no idea it was ever that bad. Sure he got pushed around a bit, sure, he sometimes got the belt, but seeing it laid out like that...

"Where did you come across basilisk venom and survive it?" Rodgrip cut in suddenly.

"Oh, the chamber of secrets in my second year, it was terrorising the school, Tom Riddle set it loose. I killed it," Harry said, not really paying attention as he kept reading the results.

"**Contracts, Vows and Debts tied to one Hadrian James Evans-Potter**

**Contracts bound:**

Triwizard Tournament - Contestant Contract

**Contracts Binding:**

William Fabian Weasley - Gringotts Human Account Advisor

**Receiving Life debt:**

Minor wizarding world - inherited from Lily Marie Evans-Potter

Severus Prince Snape - inherited from James Charlus Potter - fulfilled by protection vow

Hermione Jean Granger - Fulfilled

Ginevra Molly Weasley

Sirius Orion Black

Peter Pettigrew

**Life Debt Owed:**

Severus Prince Snape - voided by protection vow

**Vows:**

Lily Marie Evans-Potter Maternal Protection Vow

Severus Prince Snape Protection Vow

**Marriage:**

Betrothal Contract Of Hadrian James Evans-Potter to one Ginevra Molly Weasley."

Harry looked up, reeling, "did you know?" He said rounding on Bill, "about the contract, the magic keyed to your family, did you know!"

"No, Harry," Bill said, his face white, "I didn't. I don't know why? It wasn't my parents, they would not have spelled you."

"But the contract?" Harry demanded furiously.

"No! Well, my mother would have, she'd like nothing more than for you to truly be her son, she sees you as one."

"She's not my mother," Harry said carefully, "she doesn't even know me! She let Dumbledore keep leaving me at the Dursleys, she dismissed Fred and George when they complained on my behalf."

"I know Harry, the twins came to Charlie and I when she dismissed their concerns after they rescued you."

"What?" Harry asked

"They were worried about you, how you're treated at home, they wanted Mum and Dad to remove you." bill explained to Harry's growing horror.

"Mum said she was sure you were fine, but would check on it and then told them Dumbledore said you were fine there."

Harry snorted bitterly.

"She loves her children fiercely and will do what she thinks is best for them. She would have signed a marriage contract for ginny with you if offered to her. It's normal in Wizarding society. She means well, Harry." Bill said, his voice tight, his face looking conflicted.

"I will not marry your sister," Harry said.

"Unfortunately," Rodgrip cut in, pinching the bridge of her long nose, "you have to it seems, you guardian bound you to it. I will need to pull the contract for the details, but as your guardian, he has bound you..."

"I don't want to get married! Not to her, not to anyone! I will not be bound to another! I will not be a slave to the whims of others. Certainly not for the rest of my life!" Harry said fiercely, meeting Rodgrips eyes.

"You could lose your magic, Harry," Bill said exclaimed, "surely you don't hate Ginny that much!"

"I don't hate her!" Harry said, turning to glare at Bill, "If I actually knew her better she'd probably be like a sister when she'd not blushing and stuttering or stalking me with Collin. I can't marry her. And if this is what the Wizarding world had done to me, maybe I'm better off without it."

"You don't mean that Harry," Bill said horrified.

"Maybe I do. I'm tired of being controlled. I'm tired of being chained down as someone else's pawn, to be used with no care for my own will," Harry said his eyes fierce.

"First Dumbledore, leaving me with my family, he kept spelling me, and if the last few were him, they probably all were, he would have known what they did! If he kept trying to block my accidental magic, he must have. And he left me there... I wouldn't be surprised if my relatives were spelled either." Harry fumed on.

"We can check," Rodgrip cut in.

"Dumbledore has used magic to make me his pawn. He has made it, so no-one will notice or help me. He has lied about the protections on my relative's house. I begged not to go back to the Dursleys at the end of every year. But Dumbledore said my mothers sacrifice protected me. He said that as long as I could call the place where her blood dwells home, I'd be safe. That's why I have to go back. To recharge the blood wards by living with my aunt. He said it was vitally important," he sneered.

Rodgrip sighed, muttered something unflattering about incompetent, arrogant wizards, before saying, "that sort of ward, based on the blood of a sacrifice, could very well have been placed with your mother's blood around the house. It would be particularly potent where her sister dwelt and would keep you and the house safe, to an extent. Sacrifice, a loving one at that, is a powerful force. If that sister loved you, it might keep the magic going longer, and made it more potent, but wards need something to keep them charged."

"She doesn't love me," Harry spat, "she hates my guts,"

"And so they fell then. Your mother's sacrifice likely laid the foundations for the protection wards at the house. But they fell or failed to take and start-up at all when your aunt didn't care. Dumbledore then tied to them to your blood, your core, powering what was left of them. It's probably contributed to you being sickly as a child. The wards would have been heavily draining on you, especially with all the bindings. You would have been in a constant state of exhaustion. You still are. Between the wards leaching your magic and the blocks it's a wonder that your not a squib or dead."

"So it's not really the only place I'll truly be safe, and the wards there won't really keep me safe from anyone that wishes me harm?" Harry said, anger breading clearly into his tone.

"Well if you were loved it may have been. If you don't see it as a home, and having the young and unstable core, especially when so tightly bound, it's no wonder they kept falling. Blood wards are notoriously fickle if the intent behind them isn't right and the perimeters not fulfilled." Rodgrip went on, "it's much easier to put up a blood ward to stop anyone but the person with that blood getting into a place, than use blood and love based sacrifice to keep a person safe from everything else. It's just not a logical way to ward."

Rodgrip sneered, "He clearly is not a master warder, or he never would have set the wards up like that." she said, making Bill snicker, "they would fall. Again we won't know until we analyse the house as well, they probably do something, but I doubt they are that strong or that effective. But no goblin master warder would have set wards like that. There are many better alternatives to keep you safe and hidden."

"so I have put up with years of... of... torture, by those people - unable to escape or get help - totally at their mercy, for protection and wards that do not exist. What were all the lies of a man meant to be my magical guardian? It was all a lie."

"yes, so it seems." The goblin surmised.

"Oh, my gods Harry," Bill muttered, his head in his hands.

"Fuck," swore Harry, "fuck!" Harry said, wanting to break something. Wanting to throw things and watch them shatter into a thousand million tiny irreversibly broken pieces.

"Indeed," the goblin agreed.

"On top of that he has kept me ignorant, and let me be almost killed every year at school," Harry fumed.

"What?" Bill cut in

Harry ignored him, not really wanting to talk about it, "tell me about this soul leech, I'm not familiar with it. That makes it sound like I have something praying on me, something in me," Harry asked revolted.

"You don't mean... he's a Horcrux? That someone made put one in him?" Bill said suddenly, sounding horrified. Harry stared at him, he didn't think he'd ever seen Bill shocked by anything, not Bill. It must be bad, a queasy feeling was growing in his gut.

Rodgrip sighed and muttered something that sounded like 'wizards are so stupid,' and explained, "Its a dark piece of magic wizards were moronic enough to invent in an attempt to gain immortality. A Horcrux or a soul shard as they are sometimes called is made by tearing a bit of your soul off. The piece of soul is placed in a container, mostly an inanimate magical object and is used to resurrect the person if they die. In your case, a bit of someone's soul was placed in you. Most probably in your scar, it's like a parasite. It's leeching off your core as well to sustain itself, but it is contained, and therefore unable to possess you due to your mother's protection. Which could be contributing to the fact that that protection is starting to fail as it will be a constant drain on your magic and on the protection."

"Who is this, Tom Riddle bloke? How does he fit in?" Bill cut in

"That's Voldemort's real name," Harry replied nonchalantly, "he made Voldemort up, its a mangled version of a French phrase that roughly translates to flight from death. He's not even pronouncing it right. T is meant to be silent, a lot of French words are like that."

"How do you know that?" Rodgrip interjected, "very few humans know that."

"The French? I read." Harry replied flippantly, making them snort, "His name? He told me."

"What?! He told you?" Exclaimed Bill, as Rodgrip asked, "When did you meet Riddle?"

"Second year," Harry said with a shrug, "Riddle possessed Ginny through a diary. He used her to open the chamber of secrets and let Slytherin's Basilisk out. Apparently, no-one knew what the monster was or where the chamber was. I heard that the school was going to be closed and Ginny would die. I felt I had to do something. We worked out it all out. I went down there, we took Lockhart, but he was useless. When I got down there, a boy was standing there, Tom Riddle. He came from the diary. It was super creepy, and it talked a lot about how he renamed himself Voldemort and how he was the heir of Slytherin."

"Riddle was not, and is not the Heir of Slytherin," spat Rodgrip.

Now that Harry had started the story; however, it seemed too poor out of him like water from a broken dam, "In hindsight, the diary was probably one of those Soul Shards. It felt really slimy when I'd encountered it earlier in the year. It was given to Ginny by Mr Malfoy. When written in, it wrote back. I didn't have it very long. By writing in it all year, it said she had poured her soul into it, and it started pouring a bit of its soul back into her to possessed her. It seemed to drain the life out of her and used her life to create a body I think. Ginny looked dead.

I didn't know what to do or how to save her. Riddle had my wand, he called the Basilisk. I couldn't stop it, it wouldn't listen to me. It was like it had gone insane, it didn't make any sense, only speaking in broken sentences. I was done-for. I stabbed it with Gryffindors sword and it died. I pulled its fang out of my arm, stabbed the diary with it, and it started bleeding ink. Riddle screamed and was gone.

Oh and Fawks cried on my at some point, so I was fine. He took us out of the chamber and back to Dumbledore, who had Mr and Mrs Weasly with him. I had to tell them what had happened. He said..."

Harry trailed off for a moment, what little colour that was still in his face drained out rapidly, leaving him a sickly grey colour, "Dumbledore said that's how I could talk to snakes, he said that Riddle had placed a bit of himself, his power in me, the night my parents died, that's why I can talk to snakes."

He felt queasy and light-headed, "I have a piece of Voldemort in me," Harry muttered, as it suddenly clicked. He'd read the report, but it hadn't really clocked, until that moment, he groaned, "I have a piece of him in me...Gods... gods, sorry, gonna be sick."

NOTES:

**Trigger warnings:**  
Reference to child abuse.  
The Dursley's are horrible people and should not ever be in charge of even a fish let alone a child  
We will see bits of harry's medical history  
Harry has been manipulated rather a lot, and neglected.  
Basically once again adults are ass holes.

Yes technically nappy rash does not scar. But the point is, basically the Dursley's were/are horrible despicable people who showed their nephew no care or human decency what so ever. As a baby/child many of his ailments went unnoticed and completely untreated until his magic kicked in and saved his ass. So yes in this instance it was bad enough that it scarred. Go with it. I don't have actual medical training, so let's just pretend any minor inaccuracies are correct.

Also, Dumbledore is an ass. His a horrible person to Harry (despite genuinely have the best intentions over all, for the Wizarding world. He's just being a dick about it, especially to Harry, who is his tool.) He has too much power, I kind of didn't intend him to be quite this much of a dick, but well sometimes they do what they want and not what I tell them.

This is not intended to be a molly bashing fic. She does mean well for everything she does, even if it doesn't always turn out that well (she's a couplex character) Everything here happens for a reason, its just not here yet.

Amorfamila is a family based love potion (I made it up with help from a latin translator)

I originally had two goblins in the office scene. A male account manager and a female healer, but I decided goblins are multitalented and don't need to call in extras, so Harry's account manager is a little like jack of all trades to an extent. (All the gringotts goblins are to an extent, they get basic training in all areas of the bank)  
Also decided we need more female goblins, though goblins (in this story) do not have the gender divide we do. There are no male and female goblin names, and no male and female jobs. There are just names, and jobs. Gender is not important to anything really in Goblin culture (accept for the obvious biological difference of bearing children)

I fudged the family tree's a bit but we're going to go with it.

Bill's middle name.  
Is far as I can tell, it's not given to us in cannon, same with Fred and George (who in fannon are often given the middle names of Fabian and Gideon.) But I figured as Bill and Charlie are Molly's first born sons, she would name them after her brothers. So Bill's name is William Fabian Weasley, and Charlie's is Charles Gideon Weasley.

Small rant  
Reg: Harry being overly emotional/wet blanket.  
The thing some of you need to understand is that you don't get over PTSD and trauma over night. You don't just get over monumental changes and upheavals in your life, overnight with out getting emotional about it.  
There are also lots of potions in his system making him dance like a puppet.  
He's going to be emotional, he's a traumatised child. He'll get better as time goes by, there is definitely more cold cynical harry in the works, but him being intelligent and independent is not going to remove his emotional responses to the traumatic things that he is going though.  
Rant over

Hope you enjoyed it!


	16. Chapter 16 Results and Revelations

It's a long one.

Sorry it's a few hours late, I got called in to work an extra shift this morning

Happy reading

?ￂﾠ

He fell forward off the chair as a stone basin appeared in front of him. He vomited. His insides heaved until there was nothing left to come up. Not that there had been much to start with after his encounter with apparition.

Bill was beside him again, but Harry didn't notice mumbling, "Sorry, sorry, sorry," over and over again, still on the floor, not really sure where he was any more. The room was spinning. He couldn't breathe.

"Harry, you're okay, it's okay Harry," Bill murmured, inching close to Harry, but luckily knew better than to touch him this time. Bill's words didn't seem to penetrate the fog in Harry's mind though. He was rocking back and forth on his toes, curled in a tight ball.

"Pull yourself together, Warrior!" Snapped Rodgrip sharply.

That seemed to get Harry's attention. His head snapped up, his hands out as if to ward off a blow or maybe to strike something.

"You slayed a Basilisk, Warrior. You can defeat a Manipulative old man and a soul shard."

Harry seemed to give himself a shake, took a few deep breaths and sat back in his chair, "forgive me, Master Goblin, I seemed to have lost my self a moment."

The goblin nodded sharply, and Bill watched in awe.

"Why did you call me, warrior?" Harry asked.

"You have proven yourself in battle young wizard. Child, you may be, but warrior too."

"It's an honour, Harry," whispered a wide-eyed Bill.

"Thanks," Harry said, feeling embarrassed. "Thank you for reminding me of my strength instead of judging me for my show of weakness."

"It is forgotten," Rodgrip dismissed to Harry's relief.

"I thought you hated humans?" Harry asked curiously.

"We do. They are arrogant and moronic, but we put up with them. This doesn't mean I like you." She bit out, "I don't. But you're slightly less intolerable than most, even if you are a bit of a wet noodle, like most of your kind. You seem to be forging a set of balls, and a backbone though; unlike most. I suppose years of conditioning to be a walkover take time to overcome," she sneered.

Harry felt conflicted for a moment, then laughed, "yeah, I'm trying though, and we're not all that different, you and I."

When Rodgrip looked positively affronted, Harry sighed and said, "we are both living, thinking, feeling beings. We are both of the earth. That makes us, brothers and sisters. I said it to the centaurs, and I will say it again. Every living thing; goblin, wizard, muggle; we are not that different. We are all living beings, children of this earth, that makes us brothers and sisters."

"Wait," Bill cut in out, bringing them back on track, "You mean to tell me, my little sister, Little Ginny, was possessed by a Horcrux! A piece of Riddle's soul and no-one told me? You need ritual cleansing for just encountering one, let alone being possessed. She would need treatment if she was possessed by a soul fragment!"

"Can we get rid of it then? I don't want a bit of him in me?!" Harry exclaimed disgusted, "and how could you not know Bill? Didn't all of the Weasleys visit you in Egypt that summer to get her treated? Your parents were there when I told Dumbledore. They would have known about it. Can it really affect you just by interacting with one?"

Bill pinched the bridge of his nose, "Yes. What a mess. There is no way Mum would have let it go un-looked at if she had known it was something that dark. But anyway, you both should have known better than to talk to something magical if you can't see it's brain and how it thinks!"

"I thought it was normal," Harry said blankly, "there are all sorts of things that do weird things in the magical world. The spell test results show it had a compulsion charm on it anyway, I didn't stand a chance..."

But Harry wasn't really listening any more, going over all the compulsion spells. There were so many. He felt sick again. How much of his actions were his own? How much was due to someone else making him so.

"If I can throw off the Imperious Curse, how did I not notice or fight off any of these?" Harry asked.

"When did you get put under the imperious curse?" Cried Bill.

Rodgrip said, "compulsion is a bit more subtle, and by the looks of it, you've been exposed to it from a young age. You probably didn't notice, and a lot of it was probably building on older spells that you were already under. If it was Dumbledore, like you think, he's been doing magic on you for so long, your body is probably used to it. Especially if it was him that tied your core. It would have been so confused, especially when you can't actually internally feel your magic, that at the moment, you wouldn't really stand a chance to even feel them, let alone fight them off. It's a miracle you can fight off the imperious curse in your current state. When unbound, and you can feel the compulsion spells, you should have an easier time throwing them off." She explained.

"Good, so I can work on it not happening again. There's little point me trying to free myself from all this, and show my hand too early, if I'm just going to be put under again," Harry grumbled.

"When were you under the imperious curse?" Bill asked again, indignantly.

"Moody did it in class, so we know what it's like, and can maybe throw it off. Not many of us could, and it took me a few goes before I could throw it off completely." Harry explained.

"That's illegal! And highly dark magic, he put it on all of you?" Bill said incredulously, "he's nuts!"

"Yeah, but brilliant. We have learnt loads," Harry said.

"Just be careful okay. That's a bit odd, I mean the man is nuts, but if he's doing spells on you, just be really careful? Don't let your guard down around him."

"Okay," Harry agreed, "but if Dumbledore is doing this to me, it doesn't surprise me that he gave Moody permission to use imperious on us."

"Gods, that man! Just because he gave permission doesn't mean he should have!" Bill sighed, "my opinion of him has plummeted in the last 20 minutes alone."

"How did he put all those spells on me? If the blood wards need my blood, how did he get that? I didn't give it to him, and he can't have Obliviated me that often can he? I'd have noticed."

"Well, that's probably what the Confundus charms are for. To stop you noticing that gap in your memory. Some of your blood could have been taken when you were an infant," Rodgrip explained darkly, "and some of the potions listed here would have needed your blood to tie it to you; as would some of the specialised spells. Wizarding law severely restrict Blood magic, in several ways. Firstly it is not legal to use it to harm another person, secondly, it is not legal to use it on a minor, and not on anyone without their permission.

Even harmless blood magic, with consent, is highly frowned on. Wizards seem to see Blood Magic as taboo. If it is Dumbledore, then it's not too far of a stretch to hypothesise that he could have used your blood to make an effigy, and used that to cast the spells on you remotely."

"How do I know, how do I stop it?" Harry said furiously, the little colour in his face draining. "I hate being right sometimes. I knew there is something seriously wrong with my magic. It's pretty screwed up, and if we don't fix it, it could be permanently damaged." Harry started, thinking aloud.

"correct, it's actually worse than I thought it would be," Rodgrip agreed.

"Great. Just great. What can you tell me about it and what can we do about it?"

Rodgrip grinned in a bloodthirsty manner that was full of approval. It left Harry, feeling oddly warmed.

"First, get you free and healthy. Then, we keep you that way." Rodgrip said, "there are many bindings on your core, some of which have started breaking. It may have also been done to limit your accidental magic. Though, it is known that it can be very harmful to a child's development. Judging by your lack of ability to feel your magic at all, the bindings are the sort that are very harsh and hard to remove."

"Adding in that you're a Metamorphmagus, that makes your magic sit under the skin more," Rodgrip continued, "along with a talent for mind arts and the potential to be able to be an Animagus, it means your magic is slightly wilder than normal. Not unusual. That's how you we check, if a person is one or not. It feels different. But it would have contributed to the mess you're magic's in now, after fighting the bindings for so long."

Harry was torn between being pleased or horrified, "how do we break them? Can we remove the soul leach?"

"Yes. We can do an unbinding, cleansing ritual. It will remove it, but we will need to remove all the other magic and the bindings at the same time."

"So how do we plan on breaking the bindings then?" Bill asked frowning slightly.

"We shall have to plan the ritual carefully. It shall be difficult. It will probably be quite painful for you, as well. And what shape you'll be in afterwards, I cannot say. We will need a specialist, so we can work out how to undo it all. It may permanently harm your magic. I do not know. But it should be possible to undo" Rodgrip said.

Harry sighed, "we should be able to undo all the spells and potions too?"

"Yes. Again, hard but not impossible." Rodgrip said, "It won't be easy in this aspect either as all the blocks, leaches, potions and spell magic on you have seemed to have mutated and fused together. It will be tough to break, if we manage at all.

There is no simple way to release a binding, not when the original is so old and has had so many added to it that it had mutated, coupled with your use of magic, and your magic's fight to get rid of it. It has left your magic rather mangled, truth be told. It will probably try and fight the unbinding ritual too. It will be hyper-sensitive to external magic if your reaction to the testing is anything to go by," Rodgrip explained, and Harry felt his heart sink. Again.

"If they were ordinary bindings or even custom bindings layered, simply and neatly over the top of each other," Rodgrip continued, "we could just unwind them. It would take time and finesse, but it would be manageable.

Some of the potions will be easy enough to remove. But the ones that were administered or brewed with spell casting, to tie in a trigger word, are much harder. They are highly illegal psychological programming potions. They nearly always have a specific counter spell to be used along with the counter potion.

The normal purging potion won't work for them. You'll need an in-depth ritual for it, and that's not possible while you have all the blocks on your core and the soul leach choking it.

We will have to think about it very carefully. If we're brutally honest, warrior, your magic has fought so hard for the freedom, that it's scarred badly. There may be permanent scarring and side effects. The best we can do, I should think, is to heighten your magic; heighten your ability to feel it so you can see it to unknot it yourself."

"What about adding a cleansing and bond breaking ritual into a basic heavy duty cleansing ritual? Do it all at once, with the purging?" suggested Bill.

The goblin hummed, deep in through.

"What about..." Harry suggested hesitantly, he didn't really know much about any of this, but it felt right, "what about using both the extreme purging potions? The spells and the potions purging ones, that strip everything. I've read about them, but not managed to track it down. Maybe, along with the cleansing or unbinding ritual that would help.

If we can do something to help me feel what's going on, something to heighten it, maybe I can unknot them and fight them off. If I've been working on fighting them off for years, maybe we work on helping me do that, not adding in foreign magic to forcibly strip them away. If some of it was done with blood magic, is there some way of using my blood to cleanse it?" Harry asked, hesitantly

"That could work," Bill said, "worth a shot anyway."

"It could," agreed Rodgrip.

"Well you'd have to brew them yourself," Rodgrip said. "We are bound by our charter not to make or give out the recipe as it is highly illegal, unfortunately. Though I can say they are Moste Potente Potions." He looked at Harry, who frowned. Then after a moment, something clicked, and he grinned.

"If we combine our harshest cleansing ritual and strongest bond-breaking ritual, both those potions along with a magic heightening chant, you may just be able to fight them off. We'd need rune circles on the floor to combine the components together, and be careful with our arithmancy...

We'd have to do it over the break. It would take a few days I should think and would take a while to recover from." Rodgrip suggested.

"The two purging potions would help, but they would also strip your mother's protection. It is failing anyway, at the moment. It's doing more harm than good as Dumbledore tied it to Harry to keep it powered when Petunias love failed to keep it going." Bill added in.

"Will the person who did the spells know if I remove them?" Harry asked

"No. They are tied to you and powered by your magic, not the original castor. So no, the caster will not know. Which is another reason they are harder to break. It's a more advanced spell." Rodgrip explained.

"Just out of curiosity, and no potential offence meant," Harry asked suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere "but how do you know so much about spell breaking and healing if you're an account manager? I thought that was numbers and business decisions."

Rodgrip snorted, "all goblins get basic training in all fields of work at Gringotts before we specialise in a field. All Gringotts employees need a well rounded and well-versed knowledge base, especially account managers. We are not just accountants."

"Huh, cool," said Harry, making Bill snort with laughter.

"Is there any way of finding out what has been obliviated and to undo it?" Harry asked

"Yes but it's extremely magically draining, and you can't even begin to contemplate it before you are free of your bindings and totally healthy. Ask me again next year if you feel the need to do it. It will only give you dates, and maybe who did it and what method was used. It would not break the obliviates." She explained, "Occasionally, it can give you the topic that was obliviated but not always. It won't break the magic. We do not deal with human obliviates; not undoing them anyway." Rodgrip sneered.

"Right, okay. I'll put it aside for now. As for my health, what can I do to fix it?" Harry asked, with a sigh, he didn't want to be short and scrawny forever.

"We will need to consult a Healer to be sure. Gringotts has healers, and it would then be covered under the Charter. But I should think you will need a heavy potions regime and a good diet to even begin to repair some of the damage, once we have freed you from all this magic," Rodgrip said, "Some of it will be irreparable. You will always be short, and it has also delayed your development, particularly Puberty."

Harry went scarlet at this, but Bill chucked at his embarrassment.

She ignored them both, "We can get that back on track though, especially with the help of your house elves. We should be able to recover one last growth spurt."

"Many of your bones will have to be vanished and regrown," she continued ignoring Harry's wince, "then you will need a course of Skelegrow to strengthen your skeleton which is woefully underdeveloped and weak. It's no wonder you have so many breaks. You will also need sections of your skull vanished and regrown. This is a delicate and dangerous procedure and will need several healers and a few days to do, so you don't end up with mush for brains afterwards. It too, would need to wait for your school holidays."

"I've never left school for the Christmas break before but I can this time. I'll stay at the Leaky or something, I don't know anywhere else to go."

"There's an inn here in Nocturne," Bill said, "it's nice, and you'll be harder to find there. I'd say you could stay with mum, but she would worry and go straight to Dumbledore. She loves you like a son, but worships the ground that man walks on, unfortunately. She won't hear a bad thing about him. She means well, but is sometimes off the mark a bit in how vigorous she is in her caring. I love her, but she has dismissed the twins' concerns about you before, so I wouldn't go to her."

"Can we do the binding breaking now? Or will it have to also wait for the holidays?" Harry asked a little impatiently.

"Not tonight, it will have to be planned and will take time. Probably a few days to complete. For now, keep taking the Notoriously-Intense-Nutrition Potion that your elf has been giving you. It cannot hurt." Rodgrip said, with a frown, "likewise, we cannot go into your inheritance tonight while you are under compulsions, but we can discuss the basics of your finances as long as you make no major decisions while you are under manipulative magic." Rodgrip said.

"Okay fair enough, before we get on to that though, the wards, can we break these wards?" Harry asked, furiously, "without Dumbledore knowing?"

"As they are all tied to you, powered by you, and not him, yes. Though it is possible, he has used your blood to set up some kind of ward monitor. We will need to first destroy all blood outside of your body. If that is done first, he won't notice them falling, unless he checks. Though as he is getting the mail, he will notice he is no longer getting it. You will need to find out where it's going, other than just to Dumbledore, so you can both retrieve it, and then make sure he doesn't notice that he is not getting it any more," she said.

"He's probably storing it at Hogwarts somewhere, in which case I bet Winky and Dobby can track it down," Harry pondered.

He jumped when Winky appeared with a pop.

"Young Master Harry be needing Winky?" She squeaked, giving Rodgrip and Bill a weary look.

Harry grinned, "Oh, thanks Winky, you're brilliant! Well, it turns out someone is stealing my mail. We were brainstorming, and I think Dumbledore might be hiding it somewhere at Hogwarts. Would you mind keeping an eye out for it, for me?" Harry asked.

"Winky be doing that Master Harry sir, Winky be finding it."

"Thanks, Winky, sorry for disturbing you, I was thinking aloud. And thanks for the sandwiches too, they were great."

She beamed, "you is making sure you be finishing them!" She said sternly pointing a finger at him before she popped away.

"Now that is a good idea," Bill said, "I didn't know you had an elf."

"It's a new development," Harry said before looking back at the lists of spells affecting him, "can that happen tonight or later?"

"Best to do everything at once," said, Rodgrip.

"I'm sorry," Bill said after a long moment, "but can we go back to the fact that you encountered a basilisk? You should not have been in that situation at all, let alone at school."

"No one else knew where it was, and there was no-one else going to help Ginny." Harry muttered darkly, "though now I think of it, it is suspicious that no-one else could figure out what a group of 12-year-olds could. That too, was probably a setup."

"You should not have had to deal with that. At all. What else have you been up to at Hogwarts? How many other times have you almost been killed?" Bill said angrily.

"A lot,"

"Tell me,"

"Why do you care?" Harry asked suddenly, genuinely confused.

Bill sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "you're a friend of my brothers for a start, they like you. Also, if you had to put up with it, they were exposed to danger too, by being in the same place you were, where the danger was. Also, you're a good kid, I like you, you've had a shitty lot in life. I may not be able to stop it, but I can be your friend. I care, Harry, truly." Bill said, his big blue eyes boring into Harrys earnestly. Harry looked away and glanced at Rodgrip. She nodded viciously.

He sighed but started talking, "well there was the cursed broomstick in first year. My first Quidditch match. Quirrell cursed it trying to kill me, he was possessed by Voldemort. Snape did the counter curse before Hermione stopped both of them, with fire. Then there was stumbling across Fluffy one night when lost."

"Fluffy?"

"A Cerberus. He's Hagrid's pet that was guarding the entrance to the gauntlet hiding the philosopher's stone. A simple Alohomora spell opened the door; which is also pretty fishy in hindsight. We nearly got eaten. The only thing that saved us was that the dog was as surprised as we were," Harry explained with a frown. "Then there was Norbert, sorry Norberta, Did Charlie tell you about that?" Harry asked, glancing at Bill.

"Yeah, he didn't mention how you lot got it though," Bill said

"Quirrell gave it to Hagrid over a game of cards. He got him drunk to figure out how to get passed Fluffy. Hagrid hatched it, nearly burning his house down. We nearly got bitten a number of times too. We smuggled it out, but got caught. So we lost points earning us a hexing, and were sent to the forbidden forest for detention late at night, to hunt down whatever was killing unicorns," Harry said with a glower, "it was Quirrell. Again. Who was possessed by Voldemort, hence the name Quirrellmort."

"Oh, and there was the troll at Halloween. Quirrell, let it in as a diversion. It nearly got Hermione who was in the bathroom. We went after her, as it was Ron's fault she was hiding. We thought it would be safe to nick in, and nick back. It was meant to be in the dungeons.

Though the Slytherin's common room is down there! Why would they send all of us back to the common rooms, sending us into the castle, instead of keeping us all together and safe in the hall, like they did when Sirius broke in? It doesn't make any sense. Anyway, we went after her, and knocked it out." Harry continued, fidgeting with the strap of his bag. It was strange talking about it all now. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Then, there was the time when we went after the stone. We worked out Riddle wanted it, and with Dumbledore gone, and Professor McGonagall not believing us, we had to do something about it. We got past Fluffy with music, Hagrid had told us. He can't keep a secret.

"Hagrid doesn't have a deceptive bone in his body." Bill added in, "But everyone knows Hagrid is rubbish at keeping secrets. He must have been set up too, getting something top secret from Gringotts and making sure you knew how secret it was!"

"Anyway, we got past Fluffy," Harry continued, "the Devil Snare, flying keys, a life-sized chess set, a troll again but it was already dead, then there was a logic riddle with potions. If they were really trying to keep it safe, why not have poison in all of them? And the traps were rather easy for first years... Then there was the mirror of Erised. I'd found that at Christmas. Spent ages in front of it…"

"That's a powerful dark artefact, it entraps people." Rodgrup cut in with a dark expression on her face, "it had no place in a school. You could have got insnared and been there for years without knowing, and wasted away."

"Nearly did, I'd look up and hours would have passed, and I hadn't even realised I'd been there all right. Dumbledore moved it on after I was there several nights."

"Wizards," muttered Rodgrip darkly.

"Anyway I looked into it, and it gave me the stone. Stupid of it really. Quirrellmort tried to kill me as he wanted the stone. I burnt him, mum's protection apparently. Quirrell died, Voldemort's spirit escaped. I was magically exhausted for ages after that. Then my relatives tried to starve me or maybe just work me to death. Again.

Then a house-elf locked me off the train. We flew your dad's car to school, nearly died when it crashed into the whomping willow. Stupid of us, I should have just owled, but I'm no good at talking Ron down when he gets an idea in his head," Harry shook his head self deprecatingly.

"Then there was the basilisk petrifying people. Lockhart tried to obliviate us, and other than the basilisk, that was a pretty mild year except for people thinking I was the heir and hexing me in the corridors. Oh and a mad house-elf set a bludger after me to get me too hurt to stay at school. He was trying to save me from the heir. My arm was broken, and no one listened when I said I didn't want Lockhart touching it. He vanished the bones, I had to regrow them."

"That would explain why your left arm has no breaks and is in strangely good health, by your standards," Rodgrip said, "That's why your spell history is also so long if people were hexing you so regularly."

Harry nodded miserably, "third year was okay. Though, a Dementor came on the train, nearly sucked out my soul before Lupin stopped them. Then again at the quidditch match and I fell from my broom. Dumbledore used magic to catch me, I think, or I would have died.

Then there was Sirius who drew us into the shack. He found Pettigrew, the whomping willow nearly killed us. Then we were going to hand in Pettigrew and get Sirius freed, but the moon came out. Lupin had forgotten his wolfsbane potion. Which," Harry paused a moment, frowning, "if you were a werewolf, and will be homicidal without it, how on earth would you forget it? I mean, honestly!

Then the dementors came. Dumbledore sent us back in time with the time turner-"

"What!?" they both exclaimed, but Harry powered on, it was a bit of a relief to get it all off his chest. And the more he spoke, the more he realised just how screwed up the first years of his schooling were.

"-to rescue Sirius and Buckbeak the hippogriff. We nearly got our souls sucked out by the dementors. Again. But I knew the Patronus by then.

Then there's this year. It's been pretty tame so far."

"He should not have sent you back in time. It is highly illegal," Rodgrip said, her voice like ice, "as the chief warlock he should know that, and would have been able to call a trial for Black himself. Which leads one to the assumption he is trying to remove Black or keep him off the chessboard."

"Bloody hell, Harry." Bill said, "That is insane. I suppose that's not mentioning all the times your relatives have hurt, starved, neglected and emotionally abused or beaten you up?"

Harry flinched again, shifting in his chair, but said nothing.

Bill swore viciously, with a couple of words Harry had never heard of and some that were, he suspected, not in English.

"So," Harry surmised after a moment, "I have been spelled and obliviated multiple times. Dumbledore could easily use all those manipulation spells to shape me into what he wants. How much of my actions over the years were actually mine?"

Harry shivered, "I've been made to hate people, possibly to get me into Gryffindor, not Slytherin. It would have put me in Slytherin, had I not been compelled and brainwashed into arguing with it. I bet Dumbledore couldn't stomach the thought of his shiny 'golden pawn' in Slytherins with the 'evil slimy snakes'," Harry spat out.

"My hard learnt self-preservation instincts seem to have been magically squashed out of me. It makes sense. A lot of my actions have been out of character since I came to Hogwarts, possibly to alienate me from my peers. I've been played like a fiddle, magicked to bend to the will of another.

"Seems so," Rodgrip surmised.

"Bloody hell," Bill muttered clenching his fists.

"All those dates, the spells, even some of the wards, coincide with me either going to Hogwarts, leaving Hogwarts to my relative's house, or around the same time as my numerous 'adventures' at school. And there are so many other spells on the spell history list," Harry said flicking back to the spell history.

"I knew about some of them, most of them, but I hadn't realised just how often I'd been hexed back in first year after the dragon incident, or in second year, or even this year. I knew it happened a lot, but I didn't realise it was that often. Is that normal? That much hexing in the corridors?" Harry turned to Bill.

"No," he shook his head horrified, "if it were my siblings I'd be kicking up a real stink. That is not right. That's bullying and magical abuse right there, that is."

"No point bringing it up," Harry rebutted, "they never do anything. I tried."

"Eat the rest of that sandwich," Rodgrip sneered suddenly, "it's late, and will only get later. You're already malnourished, and I do not want the wrath of your elf upon me if you pass out."

"Thanks," Harry said dryly, pulling out the sandwiches from his bag, "want some?"

"No," Rodgrip said with a frown, "goblin cuisine and human cuisine are rather different,"

"Really?" Harry asked curiously taking a bite.

"There are books, I'll give you a list. All human employers are educated in the ways of goblins when joining the bank. I am sure Cursebreaker Weasley can lend them to you; we have little time tonight." Rodgrip said

Harry glanced at Bill eagerly "are there more by Master Ripquill? His was brilliant, informative and hilarious."

"Odd, odd reaction for a wizard," Rodgrop mutters, "Yes it is a good book, most insulting, humans tell me," the goblin drawled with a smirk.

Harry grinned, "it was. It was brilliantly funny! I'd love to read more of his work."

"There are more. More on goblin culture, goblin language, wizard culture, what's wrong with the wizarding world and why goblins should run it, why your ministry are morons, things wizards take for granted, Goblin magic and wizard magic - abilities wizards don't realise they have (wandless for one). The old ways the ways wizards have forgotten, but goblins have not. He is a prolific writer, but many of the books are not legal here for wizards to own, so do not get caught with them."

"Really why?" Harry asked curiously

"Like I said, your ministry are morons. Closed-minded, controlling morons, that think ignorance will give them what they want." Rodgrip sneered

"Oh, well that's dumb. Do you have them?" Harry turned to Bill, "can I borrow them."

Bill laughed softly, "Sure, just don't get caught, yeah?"

Harry nodded eagerly, making Bill grin.

"So the Contracts?" Harry asked flicking back to the relevant test page that they had not yet gone over, "is there anything I can do to get out of the marriage contract or the tournament? And, what's the life debts the tests mentioned?"

"Life debts are when you have saved someone's life, they owe you. Ginny's makes sense, but Pettigrew?" Bill raised an eyebrow at that.

Harry thought about it for a minute, "I stopped Sirius and Remus from killing Pettigrew that night, which is why he owes me one."

"Wow, okay," Bill said, before continuing, "as for the minor one, from the wizarding world; it's inherited. That proves that it was your mum's actions that saved you and by proxy the wizarding world. I'll lend you a book on what they all mean. They're not that useful in the grand scheme of things, but if someone tried to kill you and owed you a debt, the magic stops them from harming you. Inherited debts are rare, and are when a parent saved the life of someone, and it was never paid back in any way, it may sometimes be inherited by their child. Debts are often paid back in some way though. I'll give you a book on it. Most of the time, now it's ignored, but they are important."

"Thanks, I would appreciate it," Harry said, "and the ones I owe? How do I pay it back?"

"The debts you owe are to people who saved your life. Snape, but you don't actually owe him a debt, partly because one of your parents saved his life, but also because apparently, he made a vow to protect you, that voids the life debt as he is sworn to protect you." Bill went on.

"What? He hates my guts, he loathes me. Yes, he had protected me before, but why would he make a vow? That means he has to. I would have thought he'd rather me dead! He certainly hated my dad," Harry exclaimed puzzled.

"Maybe he liked your mum?" Bill guessed, "and wanted to protect her son? Maybe the hatred came later when he met you, and you looked like your dad, who he hates."

"Yeah, that actually makes sense," Harry said after a moment, "and it makes sense that he thinks I'm like my dad. I got off on the wrong foot by not knowing the etiquette so it would be an easy mistake to make, I guess. I should probably talk to him about it."

"Maybe, just be careful. He's a volatile and proud man." Bill warned.

"And the vow mum made?" Harry asked.

"Many parents make a vow at the birth of their child to do anything in their power to protect and look after their child. It's an old tradition, a Darke practice." Bill explained.

"Dark? Why would mum do something dark?" Harry said puzzled.

"Not Dark, Darke," Bill explained, "there's a silent 'e' at the end. There is a difference. Its like religion, we will have to discuss it another time, it will take a while," Bill hurried when Rodgrip glared at them for going off-topic.

"You humans talk too much," she griped, "this is the tournament contract. I've looked at it. You and your guardian accepted it." She pulled out a thick scroll of parchment from another draw on her desk.

"What!? I didn't accept it! I want no part in this! I did not willingly or knowingly consent to this," Harry said hotly, failing to stay calm.

"Knowingly." The goblin shot back, "You were entered by someone else. That effectively put you under a temporary contract. When the goblet pulled out your name, as a minor, it did not complete the contract until you and your guardian agreed. As neither you nor he contested it, you were bound. The only way you would have been able to get out of it was if you had refused it, in front of the goblet and sworn an oath, or refused to go to the meeting. If Dumbledore had done his job as your guardian, he could have protested on your behalf and removed you from the contract. But as he was there, he gave permission by asking you to step into the meeting room; asking you to obey the contract. The good news is, that with your guardian and yourself agreeing to participate in an adult competition, it effectively, partially emancipates you. Now you just need the final Ministry approval."

"How does that help? Dumbledore is my guardian, there's no way he wants me emancipated, and he controls the Wizengamot and basically Fudge too. And don't you need to be at least 15 to be emancipated?" Harry asked, irritably.

"You do. But you are closer to being emancipated that you were before. I'm sure once you build a good case against Dumbledore, or keep him occupied elsewhere, you could work to persuade the ministry to confirm you as an adult rather easily. The Triwizard tournament contract alone would be enough. They had two senior officials agree to you participating as an adult. They cannot really say no. It doesn't have to be the Wizengamot or Fudge, the head of Wizarding Child Services or the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would do. You have until your birthday to figure it out anyway," the goblin explained.

"I guess that is a good thing. But I am still stuck in something I want no part of. Dumbledore said there was no other way out. He lied and compelled me to obey him. I stupidly believed I had to do as he said. Years of having it beaten into me to not cause a scene, to not disobey... I was too shocked, too daunted to argue when so many people were already staring at me..."

"He would have known you didn't know about oaths. He practically orchestrated your ignorance." Bill said frowning, "but with all the International Confederation of Wizards business this summer, and Wizengamot duties, on top of preparing for the tournament and running the school, it's possible he didn't even bother to read the tournament rules and contracts. I don't know how he manages 3 full-time jobs."

"I didn't know about oaths till now, but it's all common knowledge," Harry said miserably, "So that's why everyone thinks I did it because I didn't make an oath? They assumed I orchestrated it."

"Yes"

"Great. Just fucking great. Will making an oath now do anything at all?"

"Not really. It will confirm you're an unwilling contestant if people are there to witness it. It may make a difference to some of the contract clauses, it will definitely solidify in the eyes of magic, that your guardian is not doing his duty, and it will confirm your emancipation. A new oath will make sure no-one can undo it. It will also prove to people it wasn't your fault.

"There were portraits watching, there was no way he could have missed someone adding a name. He let me get entered. He wanted me to do this. He sent Hagrid for me. He had my Gringotts key. Dumbledore's setting me up for something," Harry said, jumping up and pacing the edges of the room as he sorted through it all.

"He placed me at the Dursleys. He would have known what they were like. I told him it was horrible. I begged him to let me out. The wards ensured that no-one noticed I was hurt. I was at their mercy. He should have known I'd need the intro pack. He withheld it. He's kept me ignorant, and abused; cowed, willing to obey anything me rescuer asked. I bet all those spells on me, the potions and memory charms, I bet they're all him. He wants something…" Harry paused still pacing the room a little like a caged tiger, but Rodgrip seemed content to let him figure it out.

"He knows!" Harry exclaimed suddenly turning to them, "Dumbledore knows about the diary, the soul shard! I have a bit of Riddle Soul in me! He... he knows, and he's setting me up. Dumbledore! He's setting me up to die and take Riddle with me!" He said, looking very pail again all of a sudden.

"He's making sure I follow all the right orders in his plan. That's why he lets all these horrible things happen! Why he's orchestrating them," Harry was breathing hard now, his fists clenched in his hair. Rocking slightly on the spot where he stood by the door.

"He wants me dead because I have to die to destroy Riddle-" Harry rambled picking up steam in his panic.

"Harry, that's-" Bill started.

"He wants me to die-" Harry went on

"Harry that d-"

"He want's me dead, or just too stupid to stay alive. He doesn't want a person or a student, he wants a pawn, a perfect soldier. For whatever reason, he wants me to be the good little pawn that will do exactly what he wants. Maybe he does want me dead, maybe not. Maybe he hates me because I have a bit of Voldemort in me. That must make me dark, evil.

He wants to use me, then throw me away. He doesn't care about my well being, he doesn't care about my childhood or future, just about how useful I am to him. He doesn't care if I get hurt, or how horrible or traumatic it is," Harry rushed on his eyes lighting up with an angry fire, Bill hadn't seen before.

"I won't let Dumbledore set me up to die. I won't do it. I'll fight, I'm not a slave to his whims, never again. I'm my own person. I do not deserve to be punished for merely existing. It's not my fault I exist! Gods, I didn't ask to be born!" He was almost yelling now, angry tears slipping down his face, to his horrified mortification.

"I will fight, however for the right to continue to do so and to do so freely. I am not the plaything of others. He won't manage it. He won't hold me or bind me. What do I have to do to break his hold over me?" Harry demanded, his voice thick but all steal.

"Well," Rodgrip said speaking for the first time in a while, "for a start you need to start warding yourself whenever you're not awake and check for spells nightly. You should also start testing all food, drink and eating utensils for potions before you touch them. If it has a potion in it, take a sample and send it to us. It's evidence," Radgrip explained, "Work on making sure you are never caught unaware."

She turned to Bill, "Cursebreaker Weasley, you will mentor and tutor this client. The bank likes our high profile clients to live long enough to open their other vaults again."

Bill nodded and Rodgrip continued. "We won't go so far as to transfer you to England. You can floo in from Cairo Gringotts to London Gringotts every Sunday. Your schedule will be adjusted accordingly, and the time difference taken into account. I trust you can apparat to meet Mr Evans-Potter from here."

Bill nodded and she turned to Harry again. "As your mail cannot be trusted, we shall set you up with a Gringotts box, for a fee. It will allow you to safely communicate with myself and Cursebreaker Weasley. "

"Thank you, I would appreciate that greatly if you don't mind Bill," Harry said. "We could meet in the Shack, I'll need to make the hole bigger so you can get in, but no-one uses it and it's discrete." Harry offered before adding curiously, "what's a Gringotts box?"

"They are like muggle PO boxes I've been told, but portable." Bill explained, "you can use them to send post between boxes, so it avoids the need for owls, which can be intercepted. Your box will have an ID number. You can send mail to other boxes by writing their Box ID number on the letter. Alternatively, you can link boxes together, like speed dial, I am told," Bill explained, and Rodgrop pulled a small wooden box out of another desk draw.

It was about the size of an envelope and made of dark wood.

"A drop of blood onto the lid, and some magic," Rodgrip said.

Harry pricked his finger again, and pressed the blood into the lid, and pushed some magic in, as he had done with the brick entrance to Knockturn Alley. The box glowed for a moment.

"You can set a password by pushing your magic into it and saying the chosen password with intent." Rodgrip said, "as it is blood bound, anyone not you will need a password to open it."

Harry nodded, and Rodgrip went on, "the ID number is in the lid. You can give it to anyone else that has a box, so they can use it to send things to you. Any mail received though the box is checked for hexes and malicious magical content. They will be disabled, as will howlers. If they contain something cursed, they will be redirected to Gringotts, and you will be informed. It's bigger on the inside than the outside."

"Is it possible to divert all mail through the box then? If all mail here is checked." Harry said.

"After we break the bindings and the wards, yes we can set a redirect."

"What are the runes on the lid?" Harry asked

"The middle one, you tap to send mail," Rodgrip explained shortly, "The others are numbers 1-10 in goblin runes. Tap one, to send the contents to Gringotts, me. Two is Cursebreaker Weasley," Rodgrip said, passing the box to Bill, who pressed a drop of blood to the required rune.

"If you don't have blood, write in the ID number of their box," Bill said with a grin, pulling out a small penknife and carefully scratching something neatly next to the third rune, "that's Charlie's box number. Make sure you give him yours so he can send it back."

Harry grinned, and Bill continued, "we'll meet on Sundays, and go over Occlumency, and warding. We can go over checking food and drink for things. And I'll teach you how to ward your clothes for some extra protection."

"Thank you," Harry said to them both sincerely, putting the box in his bag. "What can I do to stop him using an effigy to spell or potion me?"

"There is a ritual spell that will find and destroy any blood out of your body, it won't work on blood already in a potion, or already ingested, but if something is tied to you with your blood, like a tracking device, or effigy, it will break the connection. We can do that tonight. But make sure you give no-one your blood afterwards. We can repeat the ritual again after the bond-breaking just in case."

"That would be great, can we do that today?" Harry used every

"Yes," Rodgrip said.

"That would be great. The potions though, how can I figure out who brewed them and who administered them? Or how old the potions are? Will they wear off?" Harry asked, turning to the next topic of the results.

"Well, each one will need a blood test. It will take a while. It will come up with a magical signature of the caster, for the ones with spell components, and with the brewer. But not who gave it to you. It can tell if it was spelled into you or used blood in the potion along with an effigy though."

"Bugger. What's the love potion though? I have heard of Amortentia, but not that one?"

"It's family love, so he probably wants you to see him as a wise old grandfather, who had your best interests at heart," Bill explained.

Harry let out a gusty sigh, "well he's not doing a very good job of it. So I can't do anything now to get out of the tournament, but I can survive it. What exactly does the contract require of me?" Harry asked.

"You have to attend all three tasks, one on the 24th November, one on the 24th February and the final one on the 24th of June, as well as the weighing of the wands ceremony which has already been completed. It does not list the tasks here, just that you only enter the first task with your wand. You will receive the clue to the second test at the end of the first. It says nothing about what can and cannot be brought to the second task. The third task will be revealed at a later date after the second task. In the third task, you will only have your wand again. It says that each task is marked out of 10 points by each of the 4 judges, one for each school and one for the ministry, bringing it to a total to 50 points.

"So each champion except me has a representative amongst the judges."

"Correct. Technically you are not tied to Hogwarts in this. You were entered as Harry James Potter, not Harry James Potter of Hogwarts."

"Balls," Harry swore.

"Rather," agreed Rodbrip startling a laugh out of Harry.

"So I just have to do the tasks. Does it explicitly say I have to compete and try my best to win, or just show up, and not die?" Harry said.

"It says you must do the tasks but not how much effort you have to put in. So you could go in to just survive and not worry about winning." Rodgrip agreed

"Good," Harry said, stifling a yawn, "now what about the marriage contract. It should not be legal to force a minor to marry someone, that's archaic."

"It's pretty normal here actually," Bill said, "mum and dad were contracted. They didn't set up contracts for any of us, until now, but it's not uncommon. A lot of your classmates will be contracted."

"I still don't agree with it," Harry snapped back, "I've been forced into enough things, I won't have the rest of my life bound as well."

"I will have to look into the contract closely to look for loopholes. It is unlikely to be that flawed. Dumbledore is clever that way, but we shall look. We may be able to use the fact he didn't use your true name as a way out, or the life debt Ginevra owes you as an out. Or possibly early emancipation can be used to void it if we can prove he is not justly your guardian. We shall see."

"If we can use the name thing to get me out of that, why not the tournament?" Harry asked.

"You agreed to it, so the name became irrelevant." Rodgrip reminded him sharply.

Harry swore again, beyond irritated, "Please gather everything you can on my account records and such that can be later used as evidence of Dumbledore's unlawful and dubious actions against me,"

He paused for a long moment, thinking. "We should start making a file, for when the day comes that we can take Dumbledore to court. He will be going down. I may not be able to do it now, I may not be able to afford a lawyer, but he will go down for this."

"Have you got any good law books, Bill?" Harry asked

"Just in relationship to curse breaking, so they won't be much help."

Harry nodded, getting up and pacing again, "What evidence can we record, what can we use against him later? I won't let this go, I have scars from this," he said suddenly yanking his cloak and top off to reveal his torso, that was indeed littered with scars and marks. Half from his relatives, some from his various end of year scrapes and some from hexing.

Bill gaped, looking at Harry's boney body with horror. He reached out a hand to touch without even realising. Harry flinched away out of reach.

"I will not have pity," Harry said, looking hard at Bill, incorrectly interpreting his expression of horror.

Harry hurriedly putting his top back on and started pacing again, his eyes hard.

"He will not get away with this, but I will not jump into it blindly. For now, we watch and wait and prepare. We shall gather a good case. He is too popular for anything to stick. And it's said that Riddle is coming back. Dumbledore apparently is the only one Riddle ever feared. If he does comes back, we'll need Dumbledore. Without him, everyone will expect me to deal with Riddle. I don't want to fight him! I just want him to leave me alone!"

Harry paused, wringing his fingers together as he thought. "Dumbledore will make me…" he said slowly, "but without Dumbledore, the ministry and everyone else will make me. So we remove Dumbledore's power over me, but not over Hogwarts, which he keeps safe from Riddle. We take him out in a way to bring down his power, reduce his influence but not imprison him and leave him useless. It will probably hurt him more that way anyway if people lose all respect for him."

Rodgrip grinned savagely, and said, "your enemies will crumble at your feet,"

"Yes," Harry said bluntly with an equally savage smile, "We shall make it so," he was coming to like the goblins way of thinking.

"I don't suppose Gringotts offers legal services?" Harry asked.

"No, we do not offer wizard solicitors, but we do offer contract advice, and legal advice, but we do not work as lawyers for wizards."

"And would legal advice be covered under the charter?" Harry asked slyly

"It would," Rodgrip said with a nasty smirk, that Harry was coming to see as the closest Goblins ever got to a true smile.

"And could you provide law advice?" He asked

"I could."

"Press control; they're slaughtering me. Are libel laws a thing here?"

"No they are not 'a thing'," Rodgrip sneered, making Harry laugh, "but you can sign a contract with a journalist that is essentially a gag order preventing anyone other than your contracted journalist from writing about you. When the contract is signed, if you put in an automatic notification clause, it will be sent out to every journalist centre as a warning. It binds all other journalists from mentioning you directly. They can still reference you anonymously, like a Gryffindor fourth year and such, but not by name, which you have to specify in the contract."

"So I need a reporter I can either trust or one I can persuade to do things my way," Harry said with a frown, "where do you find a reporter here, that doesn't work for the prophet? What about photography?"

"There are some independent magazines," Bill said. "There will be some in the library, check them out and write to them."

"The same can be done for Photography," Rodgrip said.

"Can you help me at all with the Wizengamot issue?"

"No," Rodgrip said succinctly.

"Pity," Harry said, "What about people using my name and profiting from it?"

"No, you'll need a lawyer."

"Is there anyone Gringotts could recommend and work in conjunction with, that could come under the charter and therefore the vault."

"We'll look into it," Rodgrip said after a moment.

"The will cannot be accessed until the holidays when I have done the rituals?" Harry confirmed

"Correct," Rodgrip said with a sharp nod.

"Depending on what it says, I may be able to use it to oust Dumbledore?"

"Perhaps, but probably not. But you can use it as evidence against him. Only emancipation or a court order can oust him from your guardianship."

"Balls," he swore again

"Indeed," Rodgrip replied as Bill muffled a snigger.

"Anyway to stop others from binding me to contracts?"

"Change your true name, and set a known name through ritual. So only those with your true name can contract it. Having a complex true name, after your family (you have several) will help protect you. You will have to make it different from your current name, Harry James Potter."

"Okay, is there reading on it I can do?"

"Yes, it will be in the book list I will give you," she said, flicking her wrist at a draw in her desk. A bit of parchment flew out followed by a quill. She tapped the quill with a long finger, and it started writing.

"Now, what can I do about my key? I don't have it, I never really did have it, just for 3rd year when I was on my own, and even then there was always someone with me."

"It shall be replaced, and all others smelted," Rodgrip said pulling out a new key, just as tiny as the other one. She placed it in the ritual bowl and pushed it towards Harry, with the knife, "blood and magic," she ordered.

He complied, cutting another finger and pressing the bloody digit onto the key, and pushing, what he hoped was a bit of magic into it. The key glowed briefly and heated up. Rodgrip waved a hand over it and chanted something Harry didn't understand, the key caught fire, there was a soft pop sound, and the fire went out.

Rodgrip handed Harry the key, "don't lose it, don't give it to anyone. This is now the only key to any of your vaults. It will also open your other vaults when eligible. It's bound by blood to you, for another fee, we can give you a necklace to put it on, no-one but you can remove, or you can get a money pouch to put it in, that is tied to your vault."

"Can I do both?" He asked, "can it too, be blood warded to me? So no-one else can touch it?" He asked, pricking his finger again when Rodgrip handed him a small leather pouch. The pouch was a soft navy blue leather with the Gringotts symbol on it. It glowed for a moment before he passed it back to Rodgrip, who again waved a hand over it and pressed Harry's key to it. The key wiggled and looped itself through the leather tie on the pouch.

"Now no-one can open it but you, and it will not be removed from your person unless you willingly do so, to withdraw money. Put your hand in and think the amount. Keep in mind, if you have already withdrawn your limit, nothing will happen."

"Thank you, Master Rodgrip, what about the blood ritual then?" Harry said.

"Yes, you should also visit your vault before you leave. There should be exactly 13 Gallions, 6 Sickles and 2 Knuts collectively leftover from your previous allowances, that you could take out."

"Will Dumbledore know?" Harry asked.

"We can backdate it in the accounts to stop your guardian being informed. For a fee."

Harry brightened and nodded.


	17. Chapter 17 Gringotts Rituals

the bloke in the apartment above mine started playing music at 3.30 am and woke me up, so you're getting this a few hours early.

Happy Reading

.0O0.

So if I were to open my own vault, would my guardian be informed?" Harry asked nonchalantly, thinking of the potion ingredients he had so far collected in the forest.

"You could for a fee, have the notification lost on its way to your guardian," Rodgrip proposed, "and that Basilisk you killed is also yours by right of conquest. Should you choose to sell it, it should be very profitable. You couldn't sell it all straight away, or it would lose value by flooding the market. But you could employ Gringotts to harvest it and sell it for you. Goblins like basilisk meat, as do some other denizens that live in Nocturne Ally."

"Interesting," Harry said, "that would help significantly. I would have to see how much is left or if it is decomposed at all. Would I need to either, sneak you into the school or transport it out?" Harry said, thinking, trying not to yawn again.

"We shall discuss it via the Gringotts box. Come, wizard, let's do the ritual, get you to your vault and then out of my bank. It's so late it's early." Rodgrip said, leading them out of the office.

Rodgrip led them to a small ritual room deep in the bowels of Gringotts. Bill seemed to be familiar with it and grabbed a bag off the wall and with a flick of his wand, and started poring salt around a large Pentagram carved in the floor. He then lit a bundle of sage and started smoking the room with it.

Harry watched, fascinated. He could feel the magic of the room, old and strong. A mix of Goblin magic, but a little Wizard magic too. It was brilliant. Rodgrip reappeared, Harry hadn't even noticed she had gone, with 3 other goblins.

"Strip and into the circle," she barked, "after bleeding on that," she ordered handing him a tiny bronze figurine. When he added blood to it, its eyes glowed slightly. He handed it back to Rodgrip, who stowed it on a shelf on the wall.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Now he asks," she huffed, irritated but also pleased he didn't question her first this time, "an effigy, to monitor you in ritual and make sure the blood burning ritual works. Now stop dawdling and strip!"

Harry went scarlet and looked around self-consciously, not really wanting to be naked in front of the goblins he did'nt know and Bill. He was so small and scrawny, and no one had ever seen his scars...

Rodgrip sighed and muttered something unsavoury about human priorities.

"You wizards are thingy about the oddest things," she said scowling at him, "I will only say this once youngling," the goblin said tartly, "a warrior is never ashamed of their scares for they are badges of strength and honour. You survived. Wear them with pride, for many would not have. They are proof of your strength."

Harry swallowed, his throat thick and nodded, glancing around furtively. Bill was still smoking the room with sage though and wasn't paying him any attention. The other goblins were also busy.

"Your body is your weapon, look after it, and it looks after you. Never be ashamed of the bite of your dagger, or it will be your downfall." Rodgrip said before adding, "clothes will interfere with the ritual, off with them!"

"Thank you Master Rodgrip," Harry said gratefully.

Blushing furiously, he did as asked, and striped, folding his clothes and placing them on his bag on a shelf in the corner of the room.

"The necklace too, it's magic, what is it?" Rodgrip demanded.

"A bezoar." He said, taking it off and putting it with his bag, "my glasses too? I'm blind without them."

"Give them to me," she snapped. He reluctantly handed them over, and the world became a blur of colour that made little sense. He jumped when she shoved them back into his hands.

"I've shielded them, on top of them being non-magical in every way, you can keep them on." She said.

He almost felt more self concise now he could see everyone again.

"Into the circle and memorise that, you'll need to chant it," Rodgrip said, handing him a piece of paper.

The other goblins seemed to keep bustling about doing things. He stood in the centre of the salt circle. Sage smoke now having in the air around them. He read the chant a few times, but it seemed easy enough to remember it. The pentagram, he noted was, carved into the floor as if designed to hold liquid. Bill stopped lighting sage and stood at top point of the star smiling reassuringly at Harry. Rodgrip, and three other goblins Harry didn't know at the rest of points. Harry stood, blushing scarlet at his nudity, in the middle and gave Rodgrip back the paper when she held her hand out for it demandingly.

"Now use that to cut both ankles. Stand with your feet apart, so the blood runs into the carved rivets in the floor. It needs to bleed a lot, we can give you a potion for it after." She barked.

Harry nodded and feeling exposed used the knife made a cut in each angle, so his blood flowed. When he started to feel light-headed, the blood seemed to have flowed enough to fill the channels in the floor. He was starting to feel a little dizzy when those outside the circle, carrying sage sticks that were smouldering, started to chant.

Some of it was in the goblin tongue, but Bill seemed to be chanting the same poem Harry had read. Magic filled the room and seemed to press in on him. Prompting him, he opened his mouth and started chanting too.

"Blood of my blood I call to you,

Blood of my blood return to me,

Blood of my blood outside my body,

By the power of water, earth, fire and air,

may my blood outside of me be destroyed"

The magic seemed to pull at him, and it hurt. There was a tingling at Harrys feet where he was standing on the bloody pentagram. His body felt hot all over and suddenly the blood in the pentagram caught fire. He jumped, but didn't move, couldn't move away. But it only ticked slightly.

The magic in the circle thickened until Harry thought he could taste it, until he felt he could reach out and touch it. He did, moving his hand through the air, touching what he couldn't see, though he almost expected it to be swirling like steam. It was a heady, wild feeling.

"So as I say so mote it be." He finished

The blood burning in the channels on the floor turned bright blood red before going out suddenly, leaving behind an empty pentagram, with no blood left, not even ash.

Harry staggered briefly, suddenly exhausted and light-headed. He stumbled, but Bill caught him with firm hand on his elbow and took him back over to where his clothes were. Harry dressed slowly leaning against Bill slightly so at not to tip over when he stood on one leg to pull his pants on.

"Here," Bill said, handing Harry a potion, "blood replenisher. It should help you feel better. There is a Pepper-up, but it will keep you awake all night, so take it tomorrow if you wake up feeling lousy, okay?"

Harry nodded and downed the Blood replenisher. It tasted like salt and metal, and a hot feeling rushed through him but faded, leaving him feeling less light-headed and woozy.

"Did it work?" Harry asked, putting the pepper-up in his bag, "the ritual?"

"Of course," Rodgrip snapped as the other goblins, flicked their hands and the salt, sage and smoke began to clear.

She held out the little effigy to him. Its mouth was open now, smoking softly and its eyes had stopped glowing.

They tossed it into a basket in the wall of the ritual room, it vanished, and Bill said, "they will cleanse it and use it again for something else. But the ritual worked. All things containing your blood out of your body are now useless."

"Though," Rodgrip said as she let them back out of the room, " as I said before, it doesn't work on blood that is ingested, i.e. a potion with your blood that has already been consumed, i.e. if someone made a love potion keyed to you with your blood, so someone would fall in love with you, and they had already taken it, it would not do anything. There is another ritual for that, and it can be deadly. It also won't destroy any tests conducted with your blood. Like the ones we did today. There's another ritual for that, and you don't really need it."

"Is there a ritual to seek out any blood out of your body, i.e. used in tests or in potions?" Harry asked, "and will it affect the Gringotts box and wallet?"

"There is. We can do it over the yule break, though it is mostly redundant now. The Gringotts blood work is not effected by this ritual, it has its own. That is partly what we did, when we set you a new key. All Gringotts blood work is authorised and recorded, done by an official Gringotts chant. They're protected against such rituals, you need not worry," Rodgrip said leading them to the Gringotts carts.

"Griphook shall take you to your vault. We shall meet again at the yule holidays. We shall message about the progress of the other things we have discussed today between now and then though your Gringotts box." She said before turning and walking away.

Harry, recognising Griphook and had to stop himself calling out in greeting, remembering his manners.

Griphook smirked for a moment as if knowing and said after a pause, "well meet, Mr Evans-Potter, Cursbreaker Weasley."

"Well met Master Griphook," Harry replied grinning.

The cart ride down to his vault was just as breakneck and terrifyingly brilliant as last time. Harry didn't even both trying to count the turns this time, long having given up. They came to a sudden stop outside Harry's vault, and Harry handed Griphook his key. Again, a cloud of green smoke came billowing out, and Harry said, "what is the purpose of the green smoke? It's a defence of some kind, right?"

Griphook grinned nastily, "it tests the magical signature of the person opening the vault, it will not harm the owner of the vault, but you will be in trouble if you did not have a goblin with you."

Judging from the goblins wicked grin, Harry decided he didn't need to know what would happen to a thief.

"Can Dumbledore get in?" He asked.

"He is your guardian; unfortunately, he can. He can set limits to your gold, and he can withdraw gold from the family vaults for your care."

Harry frowned but stepped into the vault.

The inside was the same, mountains of gold, silver and bronze. Harry carfully counted out, exactly 13 Galleons, 6 sickles and 2 knuts. He was about to put them in his money pouch when he turned and said, "I know I can withdraw money from the pouch, and it comes from the vault but if I put money in the pouch, will it go back to the vault or stay in the pouch?"

"Either, it's about your intent," Griphook said.

Nodding, Harry put the gold in his pouch, feeling slightly forlorn that there was so much gold put aside for him, for his education, that Dumbledore wouldn't let him touch. He thought wistfully of all the books he could get with even a handful of it.

He sighed and stepped properly into the vault, "are there only coins in here?" Harry asked, not seeing much passed the coinage.

"No, your mother also has left things here for you. For your time in school if they did not survive." Griphook said from the doorway.

Harry looked around the vault with new eyes. He picked his way carefully around the pile of gold. The chamber was a small round cave-like space carved into the rock, littered with stalagmites and stalactites. Most of the space was taken up by coins, but at the back, he found, in small patch clear of coins was an older looking Hogwarts bookbag.

He softly called to Bill, who stepped into the vault and around the pile of coins.

"What's up?" He asked Harry curiously.

"I'm not allowed to use my wand in Gringotts am I?" Harry asked, remembering what he read in the book.

"No, with permission and supervision maybe, but mostly no. It's just employees of the bank that can use their wands." Bill confirmed

"Can you do a detection charm on them then?" Harry asked gesturing to the book bag.

"Course," and with a complicated flick of his wand Bill peered at the bag for a moment, reading something Harry couldn't see, before saying, "the bag is magical but harmless, it has a blood ward on it. But it shouldn't hurt you."

"Thanks," Harry said, reaching for the bag. It tingled in a friendly almost-but-not-quite familiar manor, but wouldn't open. He took out his pocket knife and pricked a finger with it. He pressed the blood onto a corner of the bag. It glowed briefly then the flap fell open effortlessly.

Harry looked inside. It seemed to have a lot more space in it than it should have had. He'd seen them in Diagon Alley, bags with space expansion charms. It was feather-light too. He put his hand inside, and his arm seemed to just keep going down. It must have a bottomless charm on it, he thought. His hand touched parchment, and he pulled out a letter.

"My Darling Hadrian,

In the event of the worst, I have stashed this here for you. You should get it in time for your first year. After we went into hiding, I thought it best to prepare for the worst just in case. I do not want you growing up not knowing your parents or that they loved you.

I may not be able to take you on your first trip to Diagon Alley or to get your school things like I am hoping I will be able to. But never let it be said that I have not helped my son prepare for school. I have hardly been allowed out of the house, but I have been able to gather this for you from my own and your father's own school supplies. It's not much, and it's not new, but it is something that I can do for you. Just in case.

Everything in this bag should be helpful. Hopefully, it will not be needed, even if the worst should happen, you should be well taken care of but, just in case. I did have some good fun putting it together for you and writing you little notes on what it all is or is for.

I love you, my wonderful son. Stay strong, true to your self. Read and nurture your learning, knowledge is power, my darling Hadrian, and though power can not always be a good thing if abused. You can use it to keep your self safe. All the best, my son, stay strong, I'm proud of you. Whatever happens, I will always watch over you and cherish you. You are the light of my world. I will be proud of you always, no matter what.

All the love in the world my darling son,

Love,

Mum."

Harry pressed a hand over his mouth, a silent sob rose in him, unstoppable. He pressed his eyes closed and tilted forward, pressing his face into the bag. It smelt faintly of roses. He flinched when he heard Bill move closer to him, unable to hold back another sob. He bit down hard on a fist to stifle the noise, without really being aware of the old habit, another sob slipped out. And another.

His mum wrote that. For him. She loved him. She really loved him and was trying to look after him, even now. He took a deep shuddering breath and ran a finger over the edge of the letter and along the bag strap. His mum was wonderful. He missed her, suddenly, in a sharply acute way like he never had before. She'd been merely an idea, a dream before. Now she was a real tangible person that had cared for him and was gone. It made her more real, real enough to truly miss now.

Pressing his lips together rightly, and tried to carefully put the letter back in its envelope, but his hands shook, his throat thick. Bill gently took the letter from him and wordlessly put it in its envelope without looking at it, before passing it back to him.

Harry had been unprepared for the kindness of his mum's letter or for Bill's. It swelled in his chest with an unfamiliar warm that hurt so much. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to start crying.

Harry put the letter in the bag, "do you know an expansion charm?" he croaked his voice thick not looking up at Bill as he whipped his eyes

"I do," Bill said gently

"Can you cast it on my bag? So I can put mum's in it? I don't want anyone to know I have it yet," Harry asked with a slight sniffle still not able to look at him.

Bill nodded and said, "Capacious Extremis," with a sharp circle of his wand and a harsh flick.

Harry paid careful attention to the wand movement, so as to both distract himself and learn it for later.

"Its legality is questionable, it has the potential for great disuse," Bill said, looking at Harry carefully, "it's also pretty advanced, so be careful, yeah?"

Harry nodded and carefully put his mum's bag in his own.

He stood there for a moment, feeling lost, and jumped when Bill gently took his hand and squeezed it gently. This small kindness almost hadHarry crying again. He gripped Bill's hand tightly and went back to the door.

"If I leave my copy of the tests here, will it be safe? Is there a way to stop him from getting in?" Harry asked Griphook when outside the vault.

"We could set a blood ward, for a fee," Griphook said after a while.

"Will he know?" Harry asked.

"Only if he tries to enter, and if he does, he will realise he cannot find his key anyway. The ritual we did destroyed it. So no, he will not know you warded the vaults against him. He will assume, as most wizards do, that he just lost his key, or is bared by some small technicality." Griphook said with a vicious grin.

"Let's do that, please. Can we do it now?" Harry asked curiously

Griphook sighed but said, "very well, hand and key."

Harry offered both, and the goblin cut Harry's palm with a sharp claw-like fingernail and pressed both the key and his bloody palm to the vault door,. He chanted for a long moment. His hand heated up, uncomfortably, for a moment, while the vault door grew warm and started to glow.

"It is done," Griphook said when the door had stopped glowing.

"Brilliant thank you Master Griphook," Harry said, placing his copy of the reports into the back of the vault for safekeeping.

"Thank you for waiting," he said when he stepped out of the vault. The door swung shut behind him with a series of clunks and clicks.

He was not exactly sad, but the trip back to the surface did cheer him up, the break necked ride just as thrilling as the trip down.

"Thank you, Master Griphook," Harry said with a grin as he flipped his hood back up while the goblin escorted them to the door of the bank.

Harry and Bill didn't talk as Bill led him back through a lively and bustling Knockturn Alley and Harry was too tired to peer around curiously. It had to be about 3am. xWhen they appeared back to the shrieking shack, Bill was struck suddenly by how small Harry looked.

Harry was by no means weak or defenceless. He had been through more than most adults ever went through in their lifetime, but it made Bill's chest ache just thinking about it.

"My Gods, Harry," Bill muttered suddenly. Harry scowled at the look in Bill s eye.

"I'm going to hug you now, Harry," Bill warned before he pulled Harry close to his chest in a tight hug.

"What! Why?" Harry bit out, "Don't pity me! I'm not weak, I don't need babying," Harry snapped, trying to push Bill away.

But Bill just hung on, holding him close and muttered, "I don't pity you, Harry. I think you might just be one of the strongest people I know. I bet you were never really a baby. You probably practically raised yourself."

Harry stopped actively fighting but didn't hug back. He wasn't sure what to think.

"I don't pity you, though it sucks what you've been through and what we've learnt. It's horrible. Really horrible. And my heart hurts for you, Harry. You never should have been put through any of it. You deserve so much better. But you're safe now, or getting there. We are going to work on you being safe now. You're not alone, Harry," Bill murmured softly, still holding him close, "promise."

Harry felt small and overwhelmed suddenly. He gave in to the hug and let his head fall forward against Bill's chest, feeling exhausted. It was warm in Bill's arms, and his touch almost burned in the still unfamiliar sensation of touch that didn't hurt. It still felt odd, though, and Harry could feel Bill's magic all around him; warm, steady and vibrant. It was... odd and overwhelming, but... nice? Nice was the only word he could come up with as he reminded himself he was meant to hug back. That's what you were meant to do when someone hugged you.

He mechanically put his arms around Bill's waist to hug him back. Which seemed to make Bill chuckle lightly; the sound making Bill's chest rumble softly against Harry's forehead. Harry wondered if he'd done it right. He thought that was what you were meant to do when someone hugged you.

"You'll be alright, Harry," Bill murmured squeezing him tighter for a moment, running a hand over Harry's messy hair.

Bill pulled away what seemed like a mere moment later, and Harry felt oddly bereft. It was a foreign feeling. Harry felt his hand twitch oddly at his side as if to reach out. Harry almost thought that maybe it was nice, being hugged. Was this why Hermione liked them so much? He knew she liked hugs, but she avoided touching him that much. She knew it made him jumpy. But that odd warmth that Bill's hug had kindled in his chest... he almost felt safe there; standing like that, cared for almost. Maybe Bill was right.

"You gonna be okay, Harry? What about going back to the school?" Bill asked when they arrived at the hole in the wall of the Shack.

"I..." he trailed for a moment. He wanted to say yes, that he was fine, but he wasn't. His throat was tight, and his stomach a tense knot. He felt hurt and angry and betrayed, and his head was too full.

Bill put an arm out again slowly. Harry found, oddly, that he couldn't refuse the proffered comfort; couldn't turn away the offered warmth and closeness to another person, one of the few people that didn't hate his guts. He found that the protest didn't even leave his throat as he let Bill wrap him into a hug again. Harry sagged a little against Bill, warm and safe. He almost didn't want to let go. Just for a moment, he surrendered to the feeling.

He shuddered, his eyes stinging. It was too much, too much. He couldn't do this! He couldn't be this. He had to be stronger than this. The whole world was against him and wanted to see him fall.

Harry pushed away, "I'll manage," he said shortly before changing topic, desperately, "Let me show you how to get in," he said, not meeting Bill's eyes.

Bill watched him move the shrubbery and some rocks and peered at the small hole in the case of the wall in astonishment.

"How'd you fit in that? It's tiny?" He exclaimed.

"So am I," Harry grouched.

Bill placed a hand on his shoulder, and he managed to restrain a flinch, and instead said, "we'll have to make it bigger for you, though I'm actually not sure you'll fit in the wall…" Harry pondered peering at Bill critically. "Your broader than I am. Maybe bring a broom? Under a disillusionment you can fly through the attic window, I don't think it's boarded up. I'll check it out this week and let you know. I need to fix up the stairs anyway."

"Might be better, it's warded, so I can't apparate in. I'll meet you here next Saturday at 9am, okay?" Bill said, giving Harry another quick hug but Harry pulled away quickly, flinching again. Bill watched with a slight frown as Harry quickly and easily slipped into the tiny hole in the ground at the bass of the wall and vanished.

He stood there for a long time, watching the spot where Harry had disappeared, a slight frown still on his face.

.0O0.

Harry slipped his cloak on as he climbed out of the Whomping Willow, giving the tree a friendly pat as he went. He smiled at it when it shivered at him, one of its branches twitching almost as if it was waving to him.

He slipped into the school, deftly avoiding the notice of Filch and Mrs Norris, and up into the Gryffindor tower. The Fat Lady did not even wake when he whispered the password.

Part of him wanted more than anything to just crawl into bed and forget the world. But he made himself undress and hop into the shower. The hot water soothed him slightly but even after his shower, he lay awake for a long time. His mind racing, sleep still a long way off.

What he was really itching to look at, however, was his mum's bag. He knew that all he had to do was fall asleep, and he would wake up in no time and could look at it then. But despite being so exhausted his eyes were aching, he felt wide awake.

He sighed quietly and got up. He carefully extracted his bag from his trunk and put it on the bed with him, before shutting and re-warding his curtains again.

"Lumos," his whispered, despite the silencing ward that was now up permanently around his bed, preventing any noise, (nightmares,) from getting out to disturb his roommates.

He took a moment to have a closer look at the bag. It was like his own bag; a standard Hogwarts messenger bag with the Hogwarts crest on the front. It was better quality than his own, which was not spelled and did not have a crest on it. He hadn't been able to afford the extras back in his first year when he still had robes and a trunk to buy as well.

While his mum's bag was clearly used and older, it was well taken care of. It had a little pocket on the front that when he put his hand into, found a bunch of pens, a scrap of parchment and a pot of ink. He pulled them out, curiously. The pens, when he looked at them closely, all seemed to be fountain pens. They would be the perfect compromise between the ink quills Hogwarts preferred and the convenience of a muggle pen. The inkwell was filled with a dark purple ink labelled, 'Everclear's Ever-Filling Ink - Dark Violet'. The ink seemed to be to fill the fountain pens then. He grinned and looked at the parchment.

"Hadrian,

You should be raised in the magical world, but in case of the worst, you will find it easier to write with fountain pens. Much easier to handle than quills, especially if you grow up with pens and pencils. They are still an ink pen that you fill yourself, so they can be imbued with your magic. (That's why wizards insist of Quills, especially for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy.) You won't be able to use them for exams, but for homework and notes, it should be fine. You'll want to practice with a quill though too.

Love you always,

Mum"

He pressed his lips together in a tight line and swallowed thickly, his throat aching. Even now, after practising all the exercises in Hermione's quill writing book, he still struggled with it and had longed to just be able to use pens. There was something about holding a quill that was just challenging, and his hand often cramped up. This would make things much easier.

His mum had done this, for him.

He opened the bag and peered inside properly. There were so many pockets, pockets for everything, a much better design than his bag, where you just tossed everything in higgledy-piggledy. There even seemed to be a pocket for pebbles, feathers, muggle pence coins and twigs to practice transfiguration on. There were also some needles, buttons, a thimble and a tiny snuff box. They must be things his mother had transfigured. He grinned, wondering how she made the changes permanent. He'd have to check, that would be a useful skill.

He pulled out the parchments and frowned. They seemed to have been bound together into notebooks. He flipped thought one. 'Transfiguration Lily Evans.' The notes started in first year; matchsticks into needles, mice into snuff box, teapots into tortoises, essays going all the way through to her fifth year full of class notes and other related assignments.

He flipped through the rest. His mum had notebooks like that for all her core subjects as well as Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures. The latter of which seemed to have a slightly different curriculum under Professor Kettleburn than he did under Hagrid. He grinned, his mum had studied all the things he had, except for Divination. Something warm kindled in his chest at the thought, maybe she would be proud of him.

He pulled out the books next and was surprised at the sheer amount in the bag. From the size and weight of it, he never would have expected that many, but then, it was charmed.

First of all, there was the muggleborn introduction texts, as well as all of the further reading. Giving some of them a flip through he noticed all of them were annotated and notes made in the margins, just like he did. He grinned. It seemed that his mum had taken longer to find the Goblin book funny than he had.

There was a note written inside the cover of 'Magic's Real.'

"You should be raised, if not by us, then at least in the Wizarding world, so you should have no need of these at all. But just in case, Love Mum,"

The fact that his mother had planned for him to be looked after, and had made contingencies, filled him again with that odd warmth in his chest. It was almost too big a feeling. A little alien, but very pleasant. He hugged the book to his chest for a moment before looking at the rest of the books.

There were a lot more books on the further reading list. There were more on etiquette and culture, one on religions that sounded interesting, and a few on old magics and the Darke and Lyght as well. He frowned at the unfamiliar terms. Another note fell out.

"My darling,

Not all these books are actually on the further reading list. I edited it so that it reflects both parts of the Wizarding world. The ones on older magic's and religions are frowned on, Darling, as are those on the Darke. It's often not talked about, as the Ministry does not approve. So be careful who sees you reading them and who knows you have them. Especially the books about the Darke. The ministry has been trying to outlaw the practices for years. I don't expect they will manage it, but it has become somewhat taboo. Not that I agree with them, but do be careful please, my love.

I believe in knowledge, my son. Knowledge is power and foresight that can keep us safe. Better to know and choose not to practice than be kept in line through ignorance, as the ministry tries.

I could go on for pages about the Darke my son, and my beliefs. But I won't. I included some books on it, and on the Lyght to give you the wider picture.

The original list only had half as many as the list I've included, if you can believe it. Honestly, what were they thinking listing, so few to explain a whole world and culture…

Love mum.  
PS, if Professor Flitwick is still teaching, and I'm sure he will be, ask to borrow his copy of Magical Languages from around the world. I seem to have misplaced my copy and it has a rather interesting section on Goblins among other things.

PSS, Darke is a culture. Dark seems to be a colloquialism for evil. It is often assumed that the Darke is dark, evil."

Harry was itching to read them. Bill hadn't gotten around to explaining what the Darke actually was, and why it was different from Dark... And he had never heard of the Lyght. It was so interesting!

He flipped through the rest of the books. All his first through fourth-year textbooks; a few different editions of some of the Defence Against the Dark Arts books. Some of the books were older editions, but they all had detailed and useful annotations in them. He didn't recognise some of the books that he presumed to be the 5th year OWL textbooks. He was pleased to see that his mother had included Arithmancy and Ancient Runes as well. He hadn't been able to get his own copies of them. He was also pleased to see the Standard Book of Spells Grades 1 through 7, and would be able to stop 'borrowing' older Gryffindor's copies that had often been left lying around.

There was another note in the front of the Standard Book of Spells Grade 1.

"Of course you'll have your own school books (I hope), but I thought you might like my notes and things. If I am not here to help you with your summer homework, maybe the notes in the margins may help answer your questions in my stead. Or at least give you a bit of a laugh. Never be afraid to ask questions, Hadrian. He who questions, learns much."

Then there were also a couple of divination books and a few muggle studies books as well. He opened the cover of one.

"My Darling Hadrian,

I have included some of your father's texts from his electives as well, just in case you take these. He doesn't really take notes in his textbooks, not with anything useful anyway. But you may find it funny, or useful in deciding which electives to take. My advice would be, take what you enjoy, and what keeps your options open. Remember, you can swap up until the end of the 3rd week of school if you change your mind.

Love mum"

Placing them carefully aside, he moved on to the next set of books. These were leather-bound notebooks that turned out to be a stack of diaries. Some had larger childish pencilled handwriting and pictures, some had neater older writing done in what Harry presumed was the dark purple ink of the fountain pen.

Her diaries. She had written diaries. His mum liked to draw, like he did sometimes over the summer, when locked up in his room.

He may not have anyone to tell him about her, but now he could read about her, in her own words. This was a real tangible connection to his mother so he could get to know her. He hugged them to his chest and had to use great self-restraint to keep from opening the first one and spending all morning reading.

Next, he pulled out some cauldrons. He frowned, not expecting it. There were several standard cauldrons, a large box of Bicarb soda (what?), a range of stirring rods, and a bunch of little bowls. He frowned and pulled a note out from inside one the cauldrons.

"Hadrian,

My best friend taught me a lot about what I know and love about potions. He was a prodigy at them. We spent many a day during the summer in Cokesworth brewing in my mother's kitchen. She was ever so patient when one of our experiments blew up all over her nice clean kitchen. And if we were not in there, we were in the local woods foraging for ingredients or in the garden growing them.

I hope you come to enjoy the art as much as I do. And even if you can't use your wand during the summer, potions is magic that you can use as it is passive magic.

I used to note down the recipe I was brewing, add in any changes I was going to make to it. Sometimes there are ways to improve the recipes in your text book. I would then prepare all my ingredients and have them sitting ready in little bowls. I've left some for you. I found it was ideal, this way, to keep track of everything, keep everything neat, and to work in an efficient way. I have left you a few of my old cauldrons, stirring rods, and knives, in case you would like to experiment with some potions too and end up melting some like we did at the start. It's always good to have extras. I haven't left you any ingredients; they don't always keep well.

Happy brewing, be careful,

Love mum.

PS if it looks like the cauldrons going to explode or melt, smothering it in Muggle Bicarb soda. It actually works. Also a good cleaning agent."

Harry stared. His mum liked potions, loved them. She and her best friend used to brew over the summer in his muggle grandmothers kitchen, making a mess and loving it. He gaped. He couldn't really imagine it. He wondered who her friend was and if they were around still. Would they teach him; the way they taught his mum?

Feeling warm and happy, this was what it must feel like to be loved; to be given gifts at Christmas by your parents! He pulled out a bundle from the bag. They seemed to be a stack of clothes. He took the note from the top.

"My Darling Hadrian,

In the off chance, he sent you to my sister - everyone knows not to send you there. I have made it very clear that I will come back and haunt their saggy asses for the rest of their sorry lives if they so much as even think about sending you there! I do love my sister, but she can be very unkind and cruel with regards to the magical world.

Anyway, if the worst comes to the worst, this is a just in case. I don't want it to be necessary, but I have a bad feeling, that I've not been able to push away over the last few days...

If you need clothes, be it muggle wear or wizarding, I've left you some. I know what it's like to be too poor to be able to afford clothes better than rags, my darling, and while my sister does too. I know her to be bitter and spiteful. I would not put it past her to refuse to provide for you, if they force you to stay with her. They are worn, they were your dad's. He was a spoilt prat, careless with his things, especially in his first year. But just in case. If for no other reason than you can use them for dirty play clothes.

I have mended them best I can. He was rather tall, even in his first year, so hopefully, they fit if you need them. If you hate the colours get one of your prefects or teachers to charm them for you.

Your father was a hoarder, despite not really being that sentimental over anything except his 'marauders,' he never threw anything out. So it was easy enough to grab his old school trunk and put some things away for you as I was preparing this.

Don't think he didn't care by his lack of input in this. He did. He loves you very, very much. He just doesn't think it necessary to prepare for our deaths. He thinks me overly cautious and sentimental. He is confident we will survive and win this war.

I hope we do.

Love,

Mum"

Harry took a shuddering breath. His mother's fear was palpable in her words. It made his insides clench, and he bit his lip, trying not to get upset. He missed her so much. This was giving him a taste of what he could have had. He hastily scrubbed his eyes, forgetting that no-one could see him.

Folded up were two school robes and a thick winter cloak, thicker than Harry anyway. He wondered what it was made of. There were also two sets of plain black day robes, a couple of black pants that looked like jeans, but he didn't think were and some shirts. They had a note stuck to them.

"Most wizards don't wear pants under their robes, just their underwear. But I have always thought, and my friend agrees with me, that wearing pants under them is preferable. Just in case. So I have included some for you. Especially if you end up being raised muggle. I imagine it would be very disconcerting to suddenly have to wear robes with no pants underneath."

Harry wondered what incident she was referring to. There was no way there wasn't a story behind that comment. He did prefer wearing pants under his school robes. And he only had one pair of school trousers. There were also a bunch of socks. He grinned, they were still second hand, but at least they weren't Dudley's or Vernon's old socks!

He pulled out the last two books from the bag. One was an old-looking leather-bound volume. It had a scrap of parchment stuck with a minor sticking charm on the front cover. He cancelled the charm and looked at it. It was different handwriting. Larger than his mother's minuscule writing, and messier too.

"Son,

You won't need this, as I'll be there to teach you and show you the ropes but your mother insisted. Just in case, she said. We'll laugh about it later though, don't you worry, Harry.

This is basically a big book of notes and boring, stuffy heir things from the various heirs in our line. It's secret family business, so don't show anyone. Sirius is okay though. If the worst happens, he'll be looking after you and can explain it all. It has a lot of entries from my ancestors when they were learning to be good pureblood heirs. I never actually wrote in it, but I did later go back and put some memories 's a nifty spell that can convert a memory into writing. It will be in the back somewhere; luckily there were others of us that also hate writing this sort of thing.

See you soon,

Dad"

Harry stared. The note was so different from his mums. Was he so sure that they would survive that he didn't think it necessary to help prepare for just in case? Harry thought his mum and dad were meant to be so in love. But by the sounds of it, his mum didn't like his dad that much, and his dad seemed to think his mum a bit silly. What happened?

The book opened with a drop of blood. Again there was a short note in the cover, but to his disappointment, it wasn't another one from his dad.

"Heir,

This book has been compiled over the years by (many a time reluctant) heirs to the house of Pereverll and later Potter. It acts as both a diary and a guide to being the heir of our great and noble house. If gods forbid, your forbearers are not there to guide you, this shall serve you well."

Harry eagerly flipped through it but was disappointed when he didn't find the answers about his father he was looking for. Wanting to know more, he wondered if his dad had any diaries. He didn't find a diary, but he did find a thick brick of a book, that looked very battered, titled 'The Marauders Grimoire.' He grinned and flipped it open. Only it didn't open.

He tapped it with his wand and muttered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." He grinned as it flipped open.

Pages and pages of what looked like detailed accounts from often multiple perspectives on not only how the Marauders had met, but all the pranks they ever pulled together, and sometimes individually too. Some of them even had little diagrams and pictures drawn in, and a few even had photos. It seemed that most of the diary entries (while Lupin and Pettigrew had contributed) were written by Sirius and his dad.

There were notes too, on the potions and spells they had used, on how they had become Animagi's, how they had made the map, how they had found all the tunnels and passages in the school. Most of these notes were written by Lupin and Pettigrew. It was brilliant, and he wondered how his mum had managed to get it.

He then noticed a note that had fluttered onto the bed when he had picked up the book.

"Hadrian,

I don't approve of this. I can only imagine what's in it, I don't have the password. But maybe it will let you in. Your father was not a good person in school. He was a hideous bully, but he made an effort to change, after a while. He wasn't exactly kind, but he wasn't as bad out of school as he was in it. I don't approve of how he acted.

Please, Hadrian, don't become a bully, my darling. As one who was on the receiving end for being a muggleborn, please don't. Pranks are fine if they are funny, but not hurtful or humiliating ones.

He would want you to have this when you're in school, and you deserve to have a bit of fun. Plus, it can help in a fight to have odd, obscure and annoying spells. Please do not try the animagi book on your own.

Love you, mum."

He felt queasy all of a sudden, his father was a bully? That didn't match all the stories everyone told him about his dad…. But Snape always said his father was horrible. By the sounds of it, his mother didn't think much of him either. And it didn't sound like his father had improved that much out of school. Why did they marry? Why didn't she leave him? Surely he wasn't a bully. Surely?

He flicked through the start of the book, desperate to prove it not true, reading bits and pieces from their first year. The pages were littered with prideful accounts of successful hexings and not getting caught. The favourites being a spell to give someone loud flatulence or a spell to give someone a painful wedgie.

Harry's gut rolled, and he winced in sympathy. His cousin had done that to him when he caught him and often blamed his loud and smelly farts on Harry, causing him more ridicule from his peers and more people to pick on him.

He flicked through the pages, flipping through their later years. The pranks got more complex, the spells more advanced, but just as unkind. A lot of the people they bullied (pranked as they frequently called it) were from Slytherin, though not all of them. The same people seemed to feature an awful lot. They seemed to give a lot of their victims unkind nicknames. Snivellus, being one of the most mentioned ones. Harry felt sorry for the guy, whoever he was. He knew what it was like to be picked on like that.

Then the pictures started, giving tangible proof of spells cast, pranks played and his father and Sirius laughing as other students cried or went red with anger and humiliation. Apparently, that was the origin of Snivillus's name. They had made him cry once, early in their first year, and had coined him Snively Snivellus.

Harry just stared at the pages. They sounded exactly like his cousin. He shivered, suddenly glad his father was not at Hogwarts with him. Judging by the descriptions of this 'Snivillus' bloke, and Harry hated using the name, they would of picked on Harry too. Harry wasn't very different from this 'Snivillus', scrawny and poor, unattractive, often unkempt after being locked up all summer. Harry was nearly a Slytherin. What would his father have said to that?

Harry shivered and kept flicking through the book with a sick fascination. His mother often featured in it too. They talked about her a lot, calling her Lilly-Pilly. Harry wondered if she liked the name. Somehow he didn't think she would have. She was often featured in photos, red in the face from yelling, her wand out as if to hex them back or undo the spells on the victim. She often seemed to jump to the defence of a dark-haired Slytherin boy, Harry didn't quite recognise, though he did look oddly familiar. Maybe that was 'Snivellus.' He cringed at the name and wondered if the boy was the best friend his mother had mentioned.

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly and turned the page again, hoping for something, anything to redeem his father, to explain his actions… Maybe this Snivillus really deserved it for some reason.

He fell short, though. The picture on the next page was of a boy being jerked up by into the air by an ankle. His robes hung over his head, hiding his face, leaving his bony legs and hips on display in nothing by greying underpants.

Harry felt sick as he watched the boy in the photo flail and try to cover himself up or get down. His father and his friends were clearly holding him up with magic, keeping him there, laughing. They were surrounded by a crowd of onlookers. His mother was there too, in the background, her wand out, looking furious. His father would flick his wand and pulled the boy's underpants off, only for the whole horrible scene to begin again...

Harry slammed the book shut, tore through the hangings on his bed and bolted over to the bathroom, only to be sick all over the bathroom floor.

His father was a bully. A horrible and cruel, abusive bully, no better than the Dursley's. His head spun, and his fingers were tingling so badly he couldn't move them. Gods he couldn't believe his father stripped that boy in front of everyone, Harry thought as he retched. And then to produce a photo of it, so they could watch it over and over again. He sat back and crawled over to the corner behind the door, his head spinning.

He could remember the burning humiliation he had felt when Dudley had done that to him, like it was yesterday. Dudley's clothes were always too big on him before he'd managed to steal some string to use as a belt. They'd always been slipping down on his boney frame. He'd constantly been holding them up or pulling them up, afraid they would fall off. He put his head on his knees and hugged himself tightly, rocking slightly.

Harry'd been hurt that day back in primary school. He hadn't run fast enough, tripping over his fraying too big shoes. They had caught him by the back of his pants. Instead of beating him up as he'd expected, they'd pulled his pants off, causing Harry to fall face-first into the concrete. Everyone had laughed and jeered at him, "he's so skinny," "so dirty," "so ugly."

Harry curled up impossibly smaller, a ball in a corner, his breathing ragged. He couldn't feel his hands. He tried hopelessly to clench his fingers, but they didn't move. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to drag in another shuddering breath. He wished he hadn't looked now. He dragged in another breath as hot, humiliating tears pricked at his eyes.

He scrubbed at them furiously, with his numb wrists. He wouldn't cry over someone like that. He took another shuddering breath, focusing on the cool air flowing into his lungs and counted, trying to get his lungs to cooperate.

His father was dead. He may have been like his cousin, but he couldn't hurt Harry, or that boy anymore. Another breath. Gods, why had she married him? Breathe Harry. Why didn't she leave him? Another breath.

Shakily, he crawled over to the shower, still clothed, and yanked at the tap. Icy water blasted him, making him gasp. He sat there shivering, as the icy water slowly washed away the panic, the dirty feeling that the book had left him with, that his father's actions had left him with, that his memories had left him with. He turned the heat up and took off his sopping clothes, washing the panic off his skin with soap.

He smiled weakly. Even now, after months of being at Hogwarts, he relished the luxury of being allowed a hot shower, with soap whenever he wanted. After a long time, when his skin was red from the heat and the soap, finally feeling clean again, Harry stepped out of the shower.

Dobby or Winky had cleaned the sick and taken his wet clothes away, leaving a fluffy towel and a clean pair of Pyjamas out on the bench for him.

He got changed and picked up the offending book gingerly, and buried it at the bottom of his mum's bag. As much as he wanted to burn it and never look at it again, he knew he'd read it later. He had to know. But right now it was too much, and the book would be safer in the blood warded bag than in his trunk.

He then forced himself to put away his father's clothes carefully into his trunk. His skin crawled slightly not wanting to touch them, but he appreciated extra clothes too much to be picky. He hated that he needed them. He hated that they would still fit. He hated the fact he had money in his vault to buy proper clothes, his very own clothes or even a second pair of school pants but that Dumbledore would not let him access enough to actually do so.

He crawled back into bed, fuming yet exhausted now and with a little trepidation pulled out the last thing in the bag.

It seemed to be a hand-knitted blanket made of large squares stitched together. It was made of a range of different wools in various shades of greens and purples. He brought it to his face. It was so soft and seemed to be warm, despite having been in the bag for years. He inhaled. It smelt faintly of roses, and something clean. He smiled, wrapped it over his knees. A note fell out of this too.

"My Darling Hadrian,

I used to keep this on the end of my bed in my dormitory in Gryffindor. My mother (your Grandma Daisy) knitted this for me when I got my letter. She used both my favourite colours and somehow managed to finish it in time for me to leave for school. So I could have a little piece of home to take with me for when I felt homesick.

I was going to knit you one as well darling, but I'm simply shocking at it. Really, your father thought it was hilarious, the prat.

Your Grandma Daisy knitted one for my sister Petunia too. Hers was in pinks and reds. As I cannot make my own for you, I am passing on my blanket to you. It saw many moments of laughter and tears. It kept me warm and safe at night for many a year. May it do the same for you.

Love you,

Mum"

Feeling warm and happy, he thought, his father may have been horrible, but his mother had loved him.

Harry carefully put his mum's letters away in a side pocket in the bag, and packed all the books back into his mother's bag. They had more useful notes than his own did. After thinking a moment, he put his own school books away in his trunk and settled on using his mums, apart from his defence book which was different. He liked having a little piece of his mum with him, to learn from.

Seeing as there was space in the bag and it would not make the bag heavier, he added in the rest of his school things to it as well. After a moment's thought, he added his new wallet, the Gringotts box, the Peverell Heir Grimoire and Charlie's dragon book. Everything that was important was now in the bag.

They would be safer in this bag that was warded. Now he could fit it, he may as well keep all his school things in his bag instead of having to take them in and out of his trunk because his own bag was too small.

He thought for a minute, tapping his wand tip against his chin. He wasn't that good at wards yet, but he could spell the curtains shut so only the right password could open them. Smiling, he cast it on his locked trunk. He didn't want Ron going through his things as he had in the past looking for chocolate or homework to copy. He didn't think his ward would keep out an older student. It wasn't that sophisticated, but it should be a good deterrent.

Happy his things were safe, he crawled back into bed, warded his curtains and pulled his mum's warm blanket around him. He was exhausted, but spent most of the remaining time until dawn tossing and turning.

All he could see when he shut his eyes was the expression on his father's face as he hexed that boy upside down and pulled his pants off. And if it wasn't that, it was the long list of spells and potions on him and the contracts and…

Harry say up with a jerk, clenching and unclenching his fits. He sat there for a long moment breathing hard, feeling empty and cold inside, with a heavy feeling in his gut. His father was a horrible person. For some reason, his mother still married him. But his mother loved him, Harry, dearly. Dumbledore was his guardian and hated his guts enough to keep him hurt and miserable, and wanted to use him like a pawn in his grand chess game.

Harry took a shuddering breath. It was too much.

He would not manage sleep. He couldn't bring himself to face the nightmares that he knew would come. Instead, he stayed up until the crack of dawn alternating between scribbling out notes on a few ideas he had to protect himself and reading his mothers early diaries, desperate for a distraction and something to do.

His mother had started writing diaries a few years before Hogwarts as a primary school project. By the looks of it, she'd kept up the habit. At first, she wrote about her weekends and what her family got up to, but soon she seemed to be writing her thoughts and worries out as well; her worries for her good friend Sev, whose home life was worrying her; her amazement when Sev told her she was a witch; how they would go to Hogwarts together; and, her hurt when Petunia turned on her when she got her letter.

He mum and Sev had gone to Diagon alley together with Sev's mum, Ms Eileen. He wondered who Sev was, though? What happened to him and was he still around?


	18. Chpt 18 Things fall apart a bit (again)

This one is for Sykotweak & Chris52_lane thank you for your reviews, they were lovely and much appreciated. Thank you.

I'm off to the Australian Wiccan Conference later today, and won't be able to post a chapter on my usual Saturday schedule, hence the early update.

0o0o0o

Harry woke up after precious little sleep and quickly pulled his mum's blanket over his head to muffle his groan when the full extent of the day before dawned on him, hitting him like a bludger to the gut. His chest tightened in that familiar painful twisting and pulling sensation of horror and betrayal.

He couldn't say he couldn't believe it. He could. He could believe that his father had been awful and that Dumbledore, his supposed, kind mentor, would do that to him. He hated it. He hated how unreliable the adults in his life were, and hated none of them where what he thought. He hated that it had happened, that he had been weak enough to be oblivious to it and had let it happen. He hated himself for not knowing or spotting it.

He hated too, that he had come to expect it. He bit down hard on his hand, as a focus, as he forced it all to the back, shoving it all into a tiny little box in the back of his mind. He didn't have time for that now.

His cheeks heated as he suddenly realised, with horror, how open and trusting he'd been with Bill. Shame welled in him at the weakness. He didn't know Bill or Charlie, and yet he trusted them. He'd been sickeningly honest with them. He'd let Bill see all the horrid weak and ugly bits of his life. He had confided in him. Gods Bill had seen his scars, all of them. And he couldn't take that back. He bit down harder on his hand, focusing on the dull pain of it.

Bill's magic and presence had been so warm and soothing, so reassuring. It had been like that with Charlie as well, when Harry had met them both, over the summer. They had a warm, reassuring presence about them; a steadiness. Harry had forgotten for a moment that he really only had himself to rely on. It was so nice being able to lean on another for a moment. How had he let himself slip so severely? Why was he trusting Bill?

Was it the magic? Or was he really so starved for affection that he had let himself trust the first friendly person? Isn't that what had happened with Ron?

And Bill's hugs. They'd been nice. For as long as Harry could remember, touch had meant pain. Hugs had been a totally unknown concept until Hermione had hugged near the end of first year. It had been an alien, uncomfortably vulnerable, position to be in. He'd hated it. Hated how trapped he had felt, how close she'd been, how his skin crawled at the touch; not even just the hug, any touch seemed to make his skin crawl. Hagrid's hugs, though meant well, were often painful or knocked him over. Mrs Weasley's hugs were smothering, he avoided them like the plague, and Hermione, while well-meaning, her hugs were enthusiastic. Even now, he often felt trapped in them. Touch still made his skin crawl and sometimes, he even felt like he needed a shower afterwards.

But Bill's... Bill's had been gentle, and kind, and he'd felt safe and warm... and it was a foreign thing.

His touch still made his skin feel funny. It burned, but it felt good too. Harry didn't understand and hated that weakness, hated the fact he'd like it. Hated the fact that he may just want another one. It was like a hunger had woken inside him. He hated it, hated the weakness.

Harry let himself groan again, and wallow for another moment before he used that hate to shove his mortification back to join the horror in a small box in the back of his mind out of the way. He sighed.

He was exhausted, but he had things to do. He had a life to take back.

Harry didn't say anything to Hermione when they met for their run. He just lead her on a long run through the Forbidden Forest. Thankfully, she didn't question his exhaustion or his need to run longer and harder than usual. In fact, she didn't say anything at all other than a brief good morning; happy to let him have his silence until they had finished washing up in the changing rooms.

"We need to work on Occlumency," he said suddenly, thinking over how much he now knew. How much he knew that Dumbledore did not want him knowing. He'd need to be able to keep that knowledge safe now. Especially if it got back to Dumbledore that he was no longer holding back in his classes. He shuddered.

"We'll work harder at it then," she said, looking at him, concerned, "we've been practising every night."

He nodded but didn't say anything else. How much should he tell her? How would he tell her? Shame and terrified anger burned again in his gut. How did you tell someone your headmaster, the head of the school, was behind half of the horrid things in your life and wanted you dead? How did you tell someone your father had been a disgusting, abusive bully and that your own bully was right about everything they had ever said about said father.

"Are you okay, Harry?" She asked later as she walked with him up to the castle for breakfast. They had stopped by Hagrid's hut to take a look at some salamanders with scale rot.

"Had some bad news last night. Several actually, I haven't quite gotten my head around it yet," he said after thinking on it a moment.

"Is that what your rule-breaking you couldn't say anything about was for last night?" She asked, after casting a quick silencing spell around them.

He nodded, "I learnt who my guardian is," he said hesitating.

"It was Dumbledore, wasn't it?" she asked, taking his hand gently.

He watched their joint hands with a detached curiosity.

"Yeah," he nodded, "he knew about the Dursley's. He helped keep me there. He put me under those potions and spells that our diagnostic charms showed so that he could control me. I have a list. It's pretty intense."

"Harry that's... But he wouldn't... would he?" She stuttered sounding shell shocked.

"He did," he said bluntly, too tired to be angry about it. All he felt at that moment was a burning determination to never be in this position again.

"But that's... that's horrible," she stuttered, looking pail.

"He did stuff to my magic. It's bad. It going to be hard to undo. I need to brew those purging potions for a start. But I have a lead on where to find them now. He... he contributed to the Dursley's. And so much more. He's done so much."

He didn't want to tell her about all the spells, the potions, his medical history, his bound magic, about the contracts; none of it. Especially the soul shard. It all seemed to get stuck in his throat.

"I need to get help undoing it. It turns out I'm rich. Stinking rich. I just can't access it, as he's put a limit on my trust. The bare minimum required to get my school books. I can't afford my own copy of the intro books, or extra potions ingredients, so if they're not in the student cupboard, I'll have to steal from Professor Snape. I really don't want to. He hates me enough as is, he loathes me. And he always knows when I'm lying. He must be a Legilimens. I'm not sure how I'll manage it yet."

"Harry that's..." Hermione sounded like her world had turned on its head.

"Yeah," he agreed, "but I have a few galleons left, and mum left me some things. I found them last night. Maybe between the leftover gold and not needing to get books for next year, I can afford to order the ingredients." He said pondering.

He could probably sell his own textbooks, to a second-hand store for a bit of gold, now he had his mum's, and his dress robes. Why would he need them here at Hogwarts when he had a uniform? That may be enough.

"Fred and George are going to help me sneak into the Restricted Section after curfew tonight." Harry said, changing the subject.

Hermione snorted, "count me in."

"Really?" Harry asked, slightly surprised.

"So many books, Harry, that we're not allowed to read!" She exclaimed as they reached the entrance hall.

"You eating with Ron?" He asked as they paused outside the doors to the entrance hall so he could cast a discrete preemptive shield.

She frowned at it, but nodded, "he's begged help with his homework. Honestly! Leaving it all to the last minute, when will he learn?" She huffed.

"Not any time soon," Harry said drolly

"Harry!" She scolded

Harry just forced a small smile, and said, "I'll see you later. Fred and George are going to help me with the disillusionment charm after dinner."

"I'll come up and help too," she promised, and Harry gave her hand a squeeze before going up to the Room of Requirement; not seeing her beam at the voluntary contact.

Harry spent the morning up up there. He knew he had plenty to do. He should be working on how to deal with all the information Gringotts had given him; how to keep himself safe. He should be working out how he felt about his father and what that meant. He still didn't want to believe it. It was too horrible and disappointing. He felt so sick and let down at the thought of his father.

He also knew he should go down and talk to Professor Snape after breakfast, but to be honest, he was dreading it. The man hated him; loathed him; had since before Harry had even met him. Harry's lack of manners only confirmed Professor Snape's poor opinion of him. And Harry was dreading the meeting, sure that Professor Snape would rub it in his face. If Professor Snape had been one of his father's victims, Harry couldn't blame him for hating him; not when Harry looked the same.

Instead, Harry compromised. He wrote the professor a very formal, very polite apology. He'd send it later that day.

Winky brought him a hot breakfast of porridge with fresh strawberries and maple syrup. It was quite possibly one of the best breakfasts he had ever had. He spent the meal poring over 'Detection spells for those who are paranoid and in for it.' The book title may have been a bit out there, but it seemed to be full of various and obscure detection spells. He focused on looking at spells that detected magical tampering in food and drink.

He tested all of them, on his meal. Of cause, Winky and Dobby had prepared it, so he didn't expect to find anything. But he needed to find one or two spells that would detect almost everything. The fewer spells he had to cast on his food regularly, the better. He also needed to get good enough at it that he could do them silently with a subtle flick of his wand.

Luckily, the spells would only light up for the castor so, as long as no-one noticed his wand movements, no-one would know he was testing his food and drink.

"Why is you testing yous breakfast Young Master Harry sir?" Winky squeaked when she came back with a steaming mug of hot chocolate for him. Harry glanced up from the book and flushed. She looked offended.

"I didn't mean to offend you. I'm just practising. I know you won't let anyone put anything in the food you make me, but I don't have the same trust in the other elves. Dumbledore has been spelling and potioning me, for years," he explained hurriedly, "I'm breaking them at Christmas, but I need to make sure I can keep myself free of them."

"Winky and Dobby be checking all your food before it goes to the great hall then," she promised, "we is not always being able to prepare all your meals sir. We is still bound to listen to Tippy."

At his inquiring frown, she explained, "she be the Hogywarts Head Elfs, and we is working at Hogwarts too still sir, so we has to be listening to her, sir, until we cans be bonding to you fully sir. We is needing Hogywarts Magic sir. But we's can be keeping an eye on yours food and drinks's, sir."

"Thanks, Winky," he said relieved.

If he was going to spend his Christmas break breaking all the magic Dumbledore was using to control him, he was going to have to make sure he could stay that way. And it had to be subtle. The last thing he needed was the man's attention, not when Harry wasn't convinced he could protect himself if Dumbledore found out what he knew and tried to obliviate him, again. As a precaution, he wrote extensive notes and locked them in his trunk, a copy in his vault, and, a copy in his mum's bag as well as sending a set to Rodgrip.

It wasn't paranoia if someone really was out to get you.

He spent the rest of the morning, alternating between going through his mother's textbooks, combing them for any spells or potions to protect him from dragon fire, and reading Charlie's dragon book. They provided a wealth of knowledge.

He had just over a week now before he would face a dragon. That would have to come first, before any significant study for fixing the tangled mess that was the web Dumbledore had woven around him. The tournament was something he could manage to work on today and would provide an excellent distraction. One he was feeling rather desperate for.

Charlie's book was a virtual treasure trove of knowledge and not just about dragons; though, he focused more on dragons, for the moment. The book first went over dragons in general; their different classes and then their different breeds. It went into great detail about each dragon species, it's diet, habitat, mating habits and life cycle. It talked about the traits of different dragons and their personalities. It explained what defences they had and what their weaknesses were, for example, the Chinese Fireball had poor eyesight, but its flame burnt hotter than most. The Horntail had a poor sense of smell and taste in comparison to its brilliant ears and had very sharp spikes on its tail, that were somehow poisonous. He shivered and made a mental note to look up the antidote.

Harry was surprised at how many known species of dragons there were. The Romanian reserve housed 19 different breeds. That considerably narrowed down what Harry would have to prepare for, they couldn't bring what they didn't have.

He took a lot of detailed notes on every dragon species that the sanctuary housed, what they ate and particularly the defences against them, their temperaments and how they changed in accordance to the season and their life cycle. Females were much more vicious than most males in general, especially around the laying and hatching season. Whereas males were more vicious than usual during the mating season.

He practised every defensive spell the book listed. They were difficult spells. The ones from Charlie were more challenging to maintain. Harry expected he didn't quite have a stable enough core for it yet, or would just need a lot more practice. The ones from the standard book of spells were easer but fickle and less effective.

It was actually rather fun practising the fire protection spells, Harry found, when he asked the room for help. He tested out some rudimentary fire protection runic arrays he'd sketched out to sew onto a pair of Dudley's off-casts, to help protect him from dragon fire. He didn't know if it would work yet, but the room had conjured some fire for him to practice on. It produced a jet of flame in the middle of the room that gradually increased in intensity as Harry practised the various spells against it.

After a while, it even started sending small blasts of fire at him to dodge and shield against, like it had on his broom. His clothes got singed, but did not burst into flame, he was pleased to note. They still needed work. He didn't think they'd hold up to dragon fire, but it was progressing. It was good fun and excellent practice. He also made some of that burn paste that he'd found a recipe for in Charlie's book. It was pretty good.

Harry found that his mother's method for brewing worked pretty well. There were still bits that confused him. Like why it sometimes said you needed 3 and sometimes you needed 4 shrivel figs, but it worked out okay. He'd had to sneak into the student store cupboard, but it was open to students, so he hadn't seen the problem with it, and had even managed to try out 3 simple fire protection potions from his books. None were specifically for dragon fire, but Harry figured he could probably sneak out and test them when Charlie and the dragons got there. He'd have to write to Charlie tonight.

Harry was feeling quite pleased with himself by the time he went into the great hall for lunch. His good mood plummeted though when people caught sight of him and started making snide comments again.

He dodged a few stray hexs on his way to the Gryffindor table, noting that a few of them may have been from their foreign guests. He had not interacted with the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. They seemed spend all their time in their carriage or ship except when they came into the castle for meals.

Harry sat down next to Hermione and focused on ignoring Ron, so he didn't start yelling at him. Just looking at him made him mad, about Skeeter, about the loyalty potions, about the marriage contract... It was better to ignore him than start hexing him.

"Hi," he said to Hermione, trying to come up with some neutral conversation that would not set Ron off.

She sighed, rolled her eyes, and proceeded to spend the rest of the meal, trying to force Harry and Ron to talk. Today, the table had quite possibly beaten all other meals in the level of ridiculousness. It had only deeming fit to let him eat a few limp salad leaves and a quarter of a grapefruit. That certainly had not helped his growing anger at Dumbledore, at the students, the teachers and at the whole world. The people at Hogwarts were starting to seem rather similar to the Dursley's.

Hermione, insisting that he and Ron make up, was certainly not helping his slowly building temper. Ron was not helping matters either. Harry was so mad at Ron, it was taking all his self-control to stop from snapping at either of them. Ron only seemed to have snide things to say to Harry and had even started going on about how Harry must now be cheating off Hermione in class, now he was getting decent marks, "because your no smarter than me, and I couldn't get any of those marks on my own."

In the end however, Harry snapped. "Ron, will you pull your head out of your ass! I didn't and don't cheat in class or on homework, and I didn't enter my name. I want nothing to do with this. But if I had planned, which I didn't, to enter, I would have told you. I know how much you wanted to enter. I didn't!

I get that you're jealous of me or whatever and want to stand out compared to your brothers, but I don't want any of this. I really just want everyone to sod off and leave me alone! I hate the attention and all special treatment, you know this! I miss you, Ron. Just admit I didn't do it! You know I didn't. Why'd you have to go blabbing to Skeeter?"

Ron just snorted, going red in the race the way he did before he really lost his temper and Hermione dragged them both out of the hall and into an empty classroom.

"You two," she yelled at them both, "are so stupid! Just make up already!"

"I'm trying too!" Harry bit back.

"You're doing a crap job of it!" She snapped, "just talk to him. You know he misses you!"

"I don't miss-" Ron cut in

Hermione rounded on him, "and you! Your acting like a spoilt two-year-old who didn't get an ice-cream. You know Harry better than this, and he misses you too. Just admit you were wrong and apologise to each other why don't you!" She yelled.

"No," snapped Ron glaring at Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes and bit back a lot of nasty comments; instead, he forced out "I'm sorry if I spoke poorly, but I really didn't do it. Why did you have to go sprout those lies to Skeeter? Why won't you believe me? I'm sorry I upset you, but I haven't done anything?"

Ron muttered something nasty under his breath and said, "because you're an attention-seeking hog, who always gets everything; the fame, the money, the popularity! I'm sick of it!"

"-what?" Harry cut in, he spent most of his time here getting hexed!

"You get to be champion! And you didn't even help me enter! I've never complained before because you're my friend, but I always get overlooked because of you! I never complained because you always took us on your adventures too, but you didn't this time! I'm not okay with that! I'm sick of always being pushed aside and ignored by everyone cause you get everything!" Ron continued yelling.

Hermione hastily threw up a silencing charm over the shut door.

"But I didn't do it, someone else did! They're trying to off me!" Harry spat back, getting really angry now, "I didn't ask for any of this! I can't control it!"

"Sure, everything's always about you!" Ron spat, pushing past Hermione to give Harry a hard shove. Shocked, Harry stumbled and fell over. He scrambled away out of Ron's reach, certain, for a moment, that Ron was going to kick him in the kidneys like Dudley did.

"I didn't-"

Ron just spat, "bull! Some friend you are. We. Are. Done," and stalked off down the corridor.

"Ron!" Harry called.

But Ron kept going, and Harry just stared from his position on the cold stone floor, his palms stinging, as he watched his first and best friend walk away from him. He didn't think they could ever come back from that...

How had it gone so wrong? How did he fix it? Did he even want to?

"You two," Hermione said, with a sniffle, "are so stupid! Why can't you just make up? I don't understand you two! I just want us to all be friends again!"

She let out another sob and ran off as well, leaving Harry feeling like he'd just had the stuffing knocked out of him.

He watched her go, staring unseeing at the door they both just left though, feeling like some of his last hope in humanity was splintering, a little, inside.

His last human friends, gone, and he wasn't sure they would come back.

And if they did? Would it be the same? How did he fix this? Did he want to? What had he done wrong this time? Because he always seemed to be screwing things up.

Harry closed his eyes tightly, a painful twisting sensation in his gut. He swallowed, with difficulty and tried not to assume he had just seen his last friend leave for good. Taking another shuddering breath, he hastily donned the cloak and scurrying up to the Room of Requirement. He managed to control himself until he made it into the room.

The maelstrom of emotions that had been building all day, like a boiling cauldron, burst out of him. It came spewing up inside, like hot acid, scorching and painful as it went, tearing him up inside. It was a frightening hungry feeling, making him want to break and shatter things, to see them broken beyond repair like he was. He wanted to destroy things.

The pressure building inside him at the hurt, the aching betrayal, the biting fear, the burning disappointment, the destructive anger. It grew eating at him until he was yelling himself hoarse, screaming at the world as he threw more empty bottles, watching them shatter and break into a million pieces.

Like him.

He threw them, he kicked them, he smashed them against walls with his bare hands. He picked up empty or half full crates and bashed them against the wall over and over again until the wood splintered and broke sending timber and bits of glass everywhere.

Still, he raged.

Gods, how could his father be such an ass? And Sirius and Lupin too! He had been so sure his father and his father's friends were good people! To find out otherwise, to find out his father was almost as bad as his relatives was such a burning disappointment that it physically hurt.

He grabbed the nearest empty sherry bottle and threw it against the far wall with all his might. It hit the wall with a sharp crack and burst into smithereens, tiny shards of glass going everywhere, glinting menacingly in the light of the room. It filled him with a sick sense of satisfaction to see it break.

And Dumbledore. Kind, wise old Dumbledore who had rescued Harry from the Dursley's, who Harry had looked up to, had set him up. He'd played him like a windup toy; to make a slave, a child soldier. To find out that he'd been duped and used, that his mentor actually just didn't give a shit about him...

Harry hefted up a huge empty bottle of cooking sherry with both his arms and smashed it against the wall, grimacing in sick satisfaction at the noise of glass breaking, watching transfixed, as glinting shards rained down everywhere.

He let out a dry, broken sob.

And the Weasley's...

Smash, another bottle gone.

His surrogate family. Had that all been a lie too?

Smash!

It hit the wall with a crack, falling half-broken to the floor, with the others.

Were they pawns too or were they in on it. Did Mrs Weasley know? Was she in on it?

Smash!

The tiny bottle hit the wall with a tinkle; only it's top cracking off.

And Ron.

His best friend, his first-ever friend. Ron didn't believe him. And it was never going to go back to the way it was before.

He grabbed the bottle again and whacked it hard against the wall, watching glass splinter, and glitter as it fell.

What was the point of trying so hard to make friends if they were just going to leave? It had been so hard, so scary to reach out on the train, to open up to a kid he'd never met, that was bigger than him. But it had been so wonderful too... to have a friend.

He kicked sharply at a fallen bottle, and it hit the wall with a resounding, satisfying crack, exploding.

He'd been so relieved when Hermione had believed him. And now? Was that a lie too?

He grabbed another bottle and smashed it over and over again, against the wall; until all that was left was the thick neck of it, a mere stub in his bloody hand. He let it fall, his anger having run dry.

It hadn't left leaving the calm he expected. It left only an empty, painful weight inside this time. He looked around at the broken pieces of glass, of his life. Total destruction.

That was that.

From that point forth, he swore not to be weak again, to not be the Gryffindor that Dumbledore wanted. The hat had wanted him in Slytherin. He always had been a bit of a Slytherin growing up. Cunning was what had kept him alive at the Dursley's. He'd buried that to fit into Gryffindor under all Dumbledore's choking magic. Maybe it was time to embrace the inner snake, and stop pretending to be the lion he wasn't.

The lion Dumbledore wanted, had never existed. Harry James Potter had never existed. Not really. He'd only ever been Boy, Freak.

He flicked his wand, "evanesco," he muttered, giving the wand a broad sweep over all the tiny pieces, a spark of icy determination growing in his gut.


	19. Chapter 19 Firenze and the Forest

a minor trigger warning at the end, (also if you don't like my trigger warning system (its not rocket science people) - tough, hold your tongue about it or find something else to read)

Now, on a more pleasant note, thanks for your patience last week, I hope you enjoy the next instalment.

Happy Reading

0o0o0o0o

Having exhausted himself, he sank down to the now glass-free floor, and trailed his wand tip over all the cuts on his hands and arms, vanishing any glass, then healing the cuts. He was getting good at doing his own healing spells now.

He really wanted to curl up and sleep, but he had so much to do.

He pulled out his Mailbox and one of his mum's pens. After filling it up with purple ink, and having a bit of a play, he found that they really were wonderfully easy to write with and his handwriting, while not perfect was quite a bit better already.

He was interrupted when Dobby popped in with a more substantial lunch than what the Great Hall had deemed fit to give him. Harry blinked. He'd forgotten about lunch. It felt like ages ago now, when it really hadn't been that long ago.

Today, he was being treated to a pot roast by Winky. He took great delight in being able to have a full meal for a change and to be able to have dessert. Winky and Dobby had made him Treacle Tart. It was just as good as he had imagined it would be.

It left him feeling deliciously full. He couldn't remember ever being allowed to eat enough to feel full before. It was an odd feeling. It was kind of nice. He was warm and cosy in front of the fire, with a good meal in his stomach. He felt so content that he almost fell asleep.

But he'd meant to write to Charlie and Bill...

He wrote to Charlie first, not telling him, (nor Bill) what had happened with Ron, or with Skeeter, or how the school reacted like he wanted to. He wanted to confide in someone, wanted a friend. That warmth of connection. But he held himself back, he knew better now. Ron may come around eventually, as Bill and Charlie had said, but it was now a little too late as far as Harry was concerned. Ron had severed their friendship.

He didn't tell Charlie about the mess Gringotts had revealed, but he did tell him about Bill taking him there, and about how he couldn't get out of the tournament. He told Charlie about his Gringotts box and its ID number so Charlie could write back to him. He did remember to ask though, about Charlie's metamorph friend and if she could maybe recommend a book for him. He wrote as well about how he was working with Hagrid in the forest. Did Charlie do that too?

Harry thought long and hard for a moment, wondering whether to reveal the weakness, the worry, before he relented and carefully asked if Charlie thought Harry was getting special treatment from Hagrid. He told Charlie excitedly about his warding project and how much fun it had been so far. And how Bill had agreed to help him, and about the earring (though he didn't mention the needles).

He made sure to keep the letter not too personal, to stick to safer topics of magic and babbled in his letter (as Charlie often did) about dragons, and how interesting 'the book' was and which spells and potions he was working on, and how he planned to maybe use a summoning charm on an egg if he had to steal one, or use his broom to outflying the dragon, if asking nicely didn't work. Did dragons speak Pasteltongue anyway? He sent Charlie his notes on which runes and maybe potions he was thinking of treating his clothes with to maybe fireproof them and did Charlie have any suggestions?

Harry then scribbled a quick note to Bill, thanking him for his help, and asking to borrow some books. He scribbled down what he'd done so far with the leather bands he had started making to protect himself from manipulative magic. Harry was beginning to think he'd need silver or something stronger than just leather to hold all the magic. Or maybe even split them into a few pieces instead of one. Perhaps a couple of earrings? He thought about maybe making a ring to detect poisons, magic and potions in food. And scribbled that down too, before getting distracted working on the project and making runic arrays to detect potions.

He then realised he hadn't finished the letter at all, just gone on a very long tangent of project notes. He snorted and spelled the pages into the notebook he was currently using for the project and finished his line of thinking.

He pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and wrote to Bill properly. Now that he didn't have to write a fake letter to hide the original, Harry found he could get straight to the point. He started off by explaining what happened with Ron and letting Bill know that he didn't have to keep talking to Harry if he didn't want to. Harry hoped Bill wouldn't take Ron's side, and cut him off too, but Harry supposed it was to be expected.

He made sure to thank Bill properly for all his help before he added a polite request to borrow Bill's copies of Master Scribe Ripquills books and if he had any good warding books that Harry could use.

After hesitating a moment, Harry added in a copy of his notes for his projects in case Bill had any advice for him. He hoped Bill didn't think him an idiot. He didn't really know what he was doing, and Hogwarts didn't really teach this sort of thing or this sort of complex cross-discipline magic. But he thought it would work.

Putting the letter in the envelope and sliding it into the mailbox he tapped Bill's rune and watched with fascination as the box glowed briefly. He opened it excitedly and smiled when he saw it was gone.

After sending Charlie's letter, he contemplated writing to Sirius. But he was still so angry, about his father... Sirius should have told him when he said Harry was so like James.

Harry shivered. He didn't want to be like James. But if that was what Sirius had been like as a kid, was he really going to be able to give Harry good advice? Was he in on it? He seemed to tell Dumbledore a lot and was always sprouting Dumbledore said this, and Dumbledore said that...

Harry put his mailbox away with a sigh. He couldn't afford to tell Sirius all about it. A month ago he may have but now... he let out another sigh.

Harry startled, when Dobby popped in, "you is being late for you's Weazey's!" The little elf squeaked.

Harry frowned a minute then, "Oh! Fred and George!"

He bolted from the room. He was a bit late to meet Fred and George in the entrance hall, and sprinted down, hoping not to be hexed or yelled at.

But in true form, the twins just apologised for their, "git of a brother," though Harry dismissed it not wanting to talk about it. He wasn't surprised they knew about the fight, everyone seemed to know everything in Hogwarts.

They were, however, thrilled with the Room of Requirement. Hermione joined them without a word about earlier. Harry felt a detached sort of relief, upon seeing her, but when she smiled at him as if nothing had changed he started to get angry.

He pushed the feeling aside however ,as best he could when Dred and George started showing them spells.

"The trick with the Disillusionment charm Harrykins-" Fred explained,  
"is to worry less about the wand movement and incantation-" George continued, "and more about intent." Fred finished.

"Of course," Harry groaned, "Magics about intent! You can fudge things a lot better if you wish hard enough. Incantations and wand movements are still important, but its about intent and visualising what you want to happen!" He exclaimed.

"yep," Fred agreed, "with this one you have to will your magic to cover you."  
"It's less channelling it out of the wand and more using the wand to direct magic internally," George added.

It got easier after that. Harry still struggled with the disillusionment charm but managed to hold it over himself for short periods. The twins proceeded to show them all sorts of other useful and obscure spells, most of which were rather odd. That was what made the twins so challenging to duel against, Harry learnt later that night.

Fred and George worked together against Harry and Hermione. While Hermione had a wide range of spells in her arsenal, she was not quick at shielding or avoiding being hit with spells like Harry was. Fred and George's spell repertoire was just plain bizarre, quirky, silly and irritating all at once. A lot of their spells were prank spells and ordinary spells used in odd ways. It made them difficult and unpredictable opponents, and it was great fun.

Harry was relieved to be so good at dodging their spells but realised pretty quickly that he was not at all used to working in a team. While he was quick to dodge and shoot a spell back in retaliation, he often forgot he was meant to be working with Hermione. Often she would end up hit by the spell he had dodged, not being quick enough to move out of the way or shield it.

It also became clear to Harry pretty early on that his trust issues were affecting his ability to work as a team. He found that he just didn't trust anyone to actually shield him from an oncoming spell. He wasn't sure whether the recent argument with Hermione and Ron was effecting it, or if it was his distrust of people in general. He just couldn't seem to trust that she would have his back. It also didn't help that he as angry and hurt at how she'd treated him with the Ron debacle.

Either way he'd spent half his attention keeping an eye on Fred and George, and half on her. It was frustrating, and it ended up more harry against Fred and George with Hermione also against Fred and George but nether of them really working together, but not actively trying to get the other.

It was a mess, and harry clearly needed practice, but during was fun, and Harry made a mental note to come back regularly to the room to practice duelling. Surely it could come up with something to help him.

"Let's do this again," Hermione said panting after their last round, while waving her wand to dry off her wet shoes that had been hit with a stray spell.

"Definitely," Fred and George moaned from where they had flopped down on the floor next to each other.

"Next Sunday after dinner again?" Harry asked as he de-spelled the asparagus's that had spouted out his ears at one of George's spells. It would be good practice, and if the stars were right and there was a war coming, he would need it.

"Brilliant old chap!" Fred said,

"You can practice dodging too. We'll get some bludgers," George suggested.

"We hear Charlie-bear's coming soon!" Fred said, making Harry warm at the hidden warning.

"You coming down to dinner?" George asked

"We know you've been avoiding the hall," Fred added

"Nah I'll eat something up here. I'm needed outside with Hagrid after tea," Harry said as he pulled out a legal tome that the room had provided.

"Well then old chap, we'll see you in the Common Room at midnight for our next adventure," they chorused.

He didn't even notice them leave, so desperate to keep doing things. To keep moving and making progress on dealing with the whole enormous mess that seemed to be his life.

The room had thankfully provided a list of publications and journalists in the UK. None of the names on the list were even remotely familiar to Harry, other than Skeeter's. He certainly didn't want to work with her. He found one that he thought sounded familiar, Lovegood... Mr Weasley had talked about them being at the world cup. A Lovegood ran the Quibbler. Harry thought Ginny may have been friends with a Luna Lovegood. He wondered if they were related and if she was also into journalism.

Seeing as it was the only name he knew, Harry pulled out one of the issues of the Quibbler and had a look at it. At first, he wasn't quite sure what to think of it. It seemed to be a complete load of rubbish. One article spoke about a creature Harry had never heard of called a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Another was about a fourth use for Bicorn horns. Harry was about to toss it across the room in irritation, despite indeed seeing Miss Lovegood's name on some of the articles, when a pair of oddly coloured spectacles fell out. He peered at them and cast a few detection charms.

While magical, they seemed harmless. He put them on and peered at the magazine through them. Other than being oddly yellow and pink in colour, the tinted lenses now seemed to show some completely different articles.

He squinted at it a moment, then turned the magazine upside down so he could actually read it. This issue seemed to be from earlier in the year and seemed to revolve around the Quidditch World Cup. It covered the game and then moved on to the drama afterwards. It speculated over what really happened at the Cup. Was it really Death Eaters, and were they acting on their own, or on Lord Voldemort's orders? Was he really coming back? It then examined in great depth the Ministry's actions leading up to the Cup and since then. Were they covering it up and if so why? It even did an article on Winky's unfair dismissal, looking quite harshly at Crouch.

Harry took the glasses off, and sat back, feeling a little stunned. The magazine may look and sound stupid, but it was actually ingenious. It pulled the general public into a false sense of security so it could print the truth under the radar; the truth the Ministry may not want to be known. Harry grinned, laughter bubbling up in his throat.

Harry wrote a proposal letter to Miss Lovegood, explaining his issue and proposal. He then drew up a few drafts of a mutually beneficial contract and sent it to Rodgrip to go over.

He was hoping that she would agree to sign on as his contracted journalist. That way he could be safe from the likes of skeeter as only Miss Lovegood would be able to write about him or publish his photographs or name, without paying for the right or getting prior permission. It wouldn't cover everything but it should stop most of Skeeters more obvious nastiness.

Thankfully Harry managed to make it to the edge of the forest as dusk was properly settling in. Firenze materialised from between the trees.

"Harry Potter," he said in his smooth voice.

"Well met Firenze," Harry said with a bow, hiding his nerves.

"I see you have been studying, young one," the centaur said.

"Yes, sir, wizarding etiquette. I don't know any centaur customs so I figured Wizarding ones may be better than nothing." Harry said nervously, "it was either that or goblin ones, and I'm a bit more familiar with wizard ones."

"Hmm," the centaur said, looking up at the rapidly darkening sky.

"Sir?" Harry asked, curiously.

"We do not use Sir, and Ma'am or Mr and Ms the way you humans do," Firenze said suddenly.

"Oh?" Harry asked curiously, trying not to take that as a sign that they had agreed to teach him.

"In our culture, children are called foals or younglings. Our peers are our sisters and brothers. We call our mother and father, dam and sire. Everyone else, that is older than you is called aunty or uncle. The herd, as is every living thing, in a way, as you said, is family. The oldest and wisest in the herd, are called grandam, and grandsire. Your teachers are your elders, called Elda."

"And what about your leader, do you have a leader? Of your herd?" Harry asked curiously, cutting himself off before he could call Firenze sir again.

"Of course. Magorian is our leader. He is mostly called by his name, we are family, but his title in your language would be Elda as well." Firenze explained.

"We do, of course, often mostly use these terms in our own language. We may teach you someday," Firenze continued, still looking at the sky, "Vega has been seen in the sky for some time now, Harry Potter. We shall not set ourselves against the heavens. We are impartial. Unbiased."

Harry shivered slightly remembering their last conversation about Mars and Vega.

"We will teach you the ways of the forest. But do not forget our positions on the heavens. Do not forget that Harry Potter. Nor will we enter the servitude of Humans."

Harry nodded earnestly and said, "Yes, Firenze. What can I do for you in return, Elda?"

Firenze looked at him for a long moment, and Harry wondered if he had done something wrong, or miss interpreted what Firenze had told him. His heart sank.

But Firenze just said, "Contribute. You will learn our ways. You will help Hagrid pass on to others how to care for the forest. Too long have your kind butchered the land. For now, you will learn and grow. One day, you may be able to champion the rights of those your kind tramples all over, and protect our forest and the land.

"I, I'm no-one, Elda, I'm just Harry. I'm not anyone special. I don't think anyone will listen to me, but I will try." Harry stuttered.

"Good," said Firenze, leading Harry deeper into the trees.

Firenze, like Hagrid, pointed out the names and properties of things as they passed. He showed Harry how to harvest them correctly, making sure not to hurt the plant or whatever they were gathering, making sure not to prevent it from growing in the future.

"Never take the roots of a plant if you just need the leaves. If you are harvesting roots, do not take them all, or it will not grow back, and it will die, meaning there will not be any to harvest next year," the centaur explained.

There were mushrooms Harry hadn't known were edible, some only for centaurs, but some Harry could eat too. He harvested tree bark for tea and herbs for divination, like sage and mallow-sweet.

Firenze pointed out small tracks and trails in the forest around them, signs of things that had passed through. Signs that Harry would not have noticed or been able to read by himself. Firenze was a wealth of knowledge and his mild manner, despite the size and power of his body, seemed to set Harry at ease in a way he wasn't, as a general rule, when around people.

It was brilliant.

"One of the first things you must know about the forest, Harry Potter," Firenze said when they got deeper into the trees, "is that you must tell the truth. Be honest. Do not manipulate. That is not the way of the forest. It always comes out in the end."

Harry nodded and avoided tripping on a tree root as he followed Firenze. Despite how dark it was now, Harry found his eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light. The trees were so close together that they had to walk single file, though Firenze seemed to know exactly where they were going and seemed to be following some path Harry wasn't yet aware of. Harry suspected that centaur vision, or maybe just his night vision was superior to his.

"The Second thing," Firenze continued, "is balance. Everything has a balance and a price. Take a plant, give something in return; be it water or fertiliser at least or blood or magic at best. Pay your dues. Pay your respects. Do not take without asking, earning, or giving in return," He explained, looking back at Harry.

"Yes Elda," Harry said solemnly, thinking it over. It made sense.

"Third is respect." He continued on, "Animals, plants, the people, the beings, the land, the magic. Respect."

"Of course, but Elda? People say it's not sentient, magic. I know it is, but they argue against it." Harry puzzled.

Firenze sighed softly, "magic is a living thing, as is the land. Magic is the land. It is is the energy that makes up the world and is in every living thing. It is a wondrous thing, youngling. It deserves respect. Take divination for example," he said, "many have no gift for it, nor do they understand it. Hence, they scorn it. That is disrespectful to the magic and the art. That makes it even less likely to hear you, and help you seek out answers. Divination is not mere fortune-telling. It is asking the universe, magic, for guidance. Disrespect it, and it is even less likely to hear you." He explained, looking back at Harry, with his piercing blue eyes.

Oh, Harry thought, of course. Something clicked into place in his mind. It made so much sense. Harry's heart sank, suddenly thinking of the divination homework, he used to make up with Ron. What was the point of trying when she just wanted to hear about his death?

"Elda?" He said cautiously, "I've messed up," he said and with a slight hesitation and shame proceeded to tell Firenze about it.

Firenze frowned, "you may not have a gift for it, but you should still try your best young one. She may have seen, I do not know. But, she too is disrespecting magic, wasting time on dramatic ego-stroking human nonsense that you humans call fortune-telling. Do not get caught up in it, or let the limitations of your kind blind you, youngling." He said, looking piercingly at Harry. Harry looked at the ground, shame burning in his cheeks.

"Sorry, Elda. I'll do better." Harry murmured.

Firenze just nodded and pointed out another type of fungus growing off the side of a big old elm tree.

"If you are to dwell in the forest, you need a defence and a means of hunting. That is the bow. Knives will come later when we make the arrowheads. We shall have to make you smaller knives, to fit your hands." Firenze said, as Harry was harvesting some of the fungi, and stowing it in one of the many pockets of his bag, after asking permission and offering it payment.

"When you are good at your bow, you will hunt with us, and work to feed our herd. You will contribute. In the meantime, we will teach you herbs and plants that are useful in our divination and you will gather those with us." He continued when they had stopped in front of a yew tree.

Firenze pointed out good trees for bow making and what you wanted to look for. "You want a long, straight limb. You don't want it too thin, or it will break before you finish it. It needs to be a strong, but flexible wood, such as Yew, Hickory, Oak, Maple or Plum," he explained to Harry before they stopped in front of a suitable tree branch that Harry had pointed out.

"Good, you need to make an offering to the Bowtruckle, first," he said.

Harry, since being introduced by Hagrid, had started taking some woodlice with him whenever he went into the forest. Hagrid had a barrel of them.

Once the sleepy Bowtruckle had been suitably pleased, and Harry had flat out explained to it what they wanted, Firenze had demonstrated how to ask the tree itself for permission to take one of its limbs.

"Press a hand to the trunk, and press a little magic in. You will feel it if it agrees," Firenze explained to Harry as if that made perfect sense, "after cutting the limb, as cleanly and painlessly as you can, youngling, you then give it payment."

Harry pressed a hand to the tree and pressed what he hoped was some of his magic into the tree. At first, he felt nothing and pressed his cheek to the trunk, ignoring the bowtruckle that had crawled into his head for a nap.

Slowly, he became aware of the tree's magic and slow acquiescence. Everything about trees was slow and steady. Harry took out his wand, and with a wordless cutting spell, cleanly cut the limb they were after, whispering thanks and apologies as he did. Harry then cut his palm with his knife and pressed it to the wound of the tree. Harry pressed some magic into the tree as an afterthought and stumbled out the ritual words of thanks Firenze had taught him.

He knew what they meant in theory, but he didn't really understand them or what language they were. Just that it was thanks to the trees sacrifice and his wish for its swift healing.

They stripped the outer bark, as Firenze explained the process to Harry.

"You humans used to use much longer bows," Firenze explained, "you used longbows as tall as a man; war bows. Here in the trees, they are smaller. They hold the same power. We can strengthen and coax some extra flex into the wood with magic as we make it. This allows the bow to be smaller, better for confined spaces like the deep forest, without sacrificing anything. You, of course, are smaller than we are, so you will again, need a smaller bow to fit your size." Firenze said without a hint of the usual judgment Harry was so used to receiving. He could hear his cousins crows of 'baby,' and 'girl' ringing in his ears.

Firenze showed him how to sand and shape the wood, gently bring Harry back to the present. Pressing magic into it slowly and carefully, they dried the fresh wood, adding strength and flex to it, seasoning it as they worked it with magic and hands to shape it.

"Often wood needs to season and dry before it is made into a bow if you expect it to last, but this way, if you treat it right, you do not need to take as much time," Firenze explained.

They bent the bow against another tree branch, testing the bend and shape, sanding and shaped it more to create an even, flexible draw as they bent it.

"It shall need to be oiled now, the wood," Firenze explained as they walked back to the edge of the forest, "we have dried it with magic, imbued it with magic, to stop it cracking amongst other things. It will need to be oiled regularly while the magic sets. It is also good practice. Care for your bow, and it shall care for you."

"You will ask your peers to stay out our Forest, Harry Potter," Firenze said when they were by Hagrid's hut. "You and Hagrid are fine, but the others are trespassing, and do not belong. Nor is it safe."

"I'll do my best, sir," Harry said, vowing to have a word to Fred and George about staying out of the forest, "is it okay for me to run in here in the mornings, with Hermione?"

Firenze nodded slowly and reached out a hand for Harry's bag, containing all they had collected.

Harry passed it over and said, "may I tell her some, about what you have taught me? So she knows how to be respectful of the forest too?"

Firenze looked at him for a long time and then said, "as you wish Harry Potter."

Harry wondered if it was a test, and vowed then and there to always listen to everything Firenze taught him and try his best to think about it.

Firenze took most of the mushrooms and herbs from his bag, but left Harry a few that were good for tea and some Harry recognised from potions, "return on your morning, youngling and we shall finish the bow, and start some arrows," he disappeared back into the trees not waiting for a response.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Notes:

Trigger warnings:  
\- so in the course of harry's melt down in the previous chapter, and smashing glass he had cut his hands, so not deliberate self harm, but its still self harm. He fixes that up in this chapter.

OTHER END NOTES:

So when Harry talks about trees, "Slowly, he became aware of the tree's magic and slow acquiescence. Everything about trees was slow and steady"  
That is a very subtle reference to a book called, "The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate—Discoveries From a Secret World by Peter Wohlleben."

It's a real book, (brilliant) that basically talks about research done into how trees communicate with each other and support each other, they form families in the big old growth forests. I'll be bringing it up again later, and working with that concept a little more.

Please don't jump to conclusions in regards to Harry and Hermione from the fight from the previous chapter, it will be looked at quite heavily next chapter, where they figure out where they stand and what they want. don't think he's just ignoring it or letting it go. He isn't, I just ran out of time in this chapter to put that in too.

also in case it has not been made clear, Harry and Hermione will not be an item, they do not like each other like that.


	20. Chapter 20 Hermione

Harry carefully stowed his new bow in his bag before he reached the castle, not really wanting to explain it just yet. Fred, George and Hermione were waiting in the common room for him when he opened the portrait hole.

"You been waiting long?" He murmured, not wanting his voice to travel upstairs and wake anyone.

"Nah," Fred said,

"Your right mate," George finished

"Running Harry?" Hermione asked

"No, had a meeting with Firenze in the forest," Harry said, before turning to the twins, "speaking of which; the Centaurs, have requested that you two, and everyone really, stay out of the forest. It's fine if you ask them first, and have permission, or are with Hagrid. But it's actually their home, and it's kinda, basically trespassing. If you need something from it, let me know. I'll see what I can do, or get permission for you but I'd appreciate it if you stayed out and passed the message along to the rest of the students. I'm trying to foster a better relationship with them now, while we can. It's important."

Fred and George looked at him for a long while, before exchanging a look and some sort of silent twins speak, before nodding.

"All right Harrykins," Fred said

"But only because you asked so nice," George finished.

Between the map and the cloak, the four of them managed to sneak into the library. It was difficult, they had to move more slowly with the four of them under the cloak. Especially as Fred and George, while rather stocky, were both taller than Hermione, and everyone was taller than Harry. But they disillusioned and silenced their feet and managed to avoid everyone.

By the time they got to the deserted library; however, Harry was desperate to get out from between the twins and Hermione. Feeling trapped, and breathing harshly, he barely spared a glance to check that the library was deserted before he through the cloak off and staggered away from them. It took him a moment to catch his breath and steady his shaking knees. Even if he did know them, and like them, being touched so much, for so long, left him feeling like he was burning like he needed to run.

Harry flinched away from Hermione when she put a concerned hand on his shoulder. She just smiled sadly at him, and he looked away, ashamed, irritation burning in his gut.

"I'm fine," he murmured flatly, as they followed Fred and George deeper into the library, Harry wrapping the cloak comfortingly around his shoulders.

It was odd seeing it so dark and still. Fred and George seemed to be old hands at sneaking in though. They pulled brooms out of their pockets and hovered near the top of the shelves of encyclopaedias that were blocking off the restricted section. Fred and George were on one broom and a reluctant Hermione sitting with Harry on the other.

"It's easier to bend the wards to let you through here, instead of by the main entrance. They're not as strong up here." Fred explained as he and George showed Harry how to, not dismantle the wards, but move them aside enough that they could slip past them.

"It got a caterwauling charm on it, but it's linked to somewhere else in the castle, it won't go off here. So you have to lift that first," George explained, showing them.

"while the other person lifts the barrier ward. It's not that hard with two people, but it only lasts a moment before it slips back into place, so you have to be quick," Fred said.

They quickly slipped through the gap in the magic. Harry couldn't see it, but he could feel it. It tingled in a prickly sort of way as if warning him out. It was unnatural quiet in the restricted section, somehow even more so than the main library.

"What book are you looking for?" George asked,

"Moste Pontente Potions," Harry said

"What? Making Polyjuice again?" Fred asked, curiously.

"How'd you know about that?" Hermione asked

"Ron's a blabbermouth," Fred said

"And you guys were not that subtle when you were 12" George finished.

Harry laughed quietly, "no, that's not it," he said, casting a quick adapted point-me charm to find the book he was after. He followed his wand along the stacks, curiously glancing at the book titles as he went. Upon finding the book he wanted, he ran his wand along it checking for wards. It was surprisingly ward free, but he stowed it in his bag instead of risking it screaming when he opened it like last time.

It was a good idea, though, having Polyjuice on hand, he thought. It might come in handy for hiding over the holidays if Dumbledore was reluctant to let Harry out of the castle. He'd have to see what ingredients he could get, or forage for.

"Ooh look at all these," Hermione gushed in a whisper, she had a good point, he may as well have a good poke around.

He ended up leaving with a few other useful books on various things to help with his side projects, amongst other things.

The trip back was just as painstaking and uncomfortable for Harry. They almost ran into Mrs Noris on the way back, and it was only the quick scent masking charm he threw up when she started sniffing at them, that kept them from detection. That, and a sprinkling of catnip on the floor, from George, that gave her something better to sniff at. By the time he got to the common room, he felt as if his skin was crawling and he was desperate for a hot shower and to escape from sight.

Later that night, he was in bed reading the library books. Despite the dragons, he can't resist looking at the books he's liberated. He was currently alternating between scribbling down wards and copying out useful potions into a notebook.

He was startled when he felt the wards on his bed ping, almost as if someone was magically knocking on them.

"Nox," he whispered to douse the light, flinging the blanket over his books and notes before shifting the curtains enough to see out, his wand up defensively...

It was only Hermione. Standing there in her pyjamas with a blanket around her shoulders. She looked tired, he realised, but why was she there? What did she want with him? He thought she was done with him, sure she still came to the library and to study with him, Fred and George, but he thought she was done.

"Hermione?" He asked. "What do you want?"

She flinched slightly at Harry's cool tone, "I... Can we talk? I couldn't sleep, and I figured you'd probably be awake too" she asked in a small voice.

Relief washed thought him at that, she wasn't angry, she wasn't leaving. He'd prepared for it, mentally, but he was very pleasing she wasn't about to wash her hands of him. But then he narrowed his eyes at her, analysing for a moment, she'd treated him badly, and that had hurt, she'd been unreasonable.

But he huffed irritably, and shuffled over anyway, lighting his wand again and lifting the covers so she could crawl in like they'd used to do. When she was seated next to him, he flipped the covers back over their legs to keep them both warm but made sure there was plenty of space between them, so he wasn't touching her.

They hadn't done this in ages, he suddenly realised, he was partially too relieved to have her back, but he was also angry with her.

"So it kept you up too?" She asked, looking at his books, as she pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders.

He didn't have to ask what 'it' was, "yes," he said shortly

"This is new," she said, stroking a purple square gently.

"It's my mums," he said, not elaborating, "what do you want? I thought you were done with me?" He said, moving away from her slightly and turning to look at her.

"What? No! I-"

"You left. You walked out on me." Harry said hollowly, "I thought you were done with me, that you were leaving too."

"What! No! I-" she clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified.

"I'm so sorry," she said pulling her knees to her chest, and taking one of his hands "i-"

He was acutely aware of her fidgeting absently with his fingers as she searched for the right words, and he snatched his hand back. He was too angry and hurt to even want to put up with being touched, just the thought of it at the moment was making his skin crawl, and he had to fight the urge to wipe his hand, even though he knew there was nothing wrong with it, it was all in his head.

"I'm sorry for making you feel like that, that's not what I meant, I just lost my temper. I'm sorry, Harry, for yelling and being so unreasonable. I came here because I owe you an apology."

"I didn't see things clearly. I talked to Ginny about it, actually," she continued, frowning when harry grimaced, "she's a good friend. She helped me see it from your side. I was scared that if our trio broke up, I'd lose everything. But she helped me see clearly. I didn't realise how irrational and unreasonable I was," She snorted, "I'm normally the logical one, pointing this stuff out."

Harry sighed, "This is the first time Ron, and I have argued. You begged me to try and make it better, I tried, and he was a prat. He pushed me to the ground and walked out on me, saying we were done. Then you walked out too."

"I know, I'm really sorry, I was scared and mad, and being irrational. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to abandon you, I just wanted to cool off, so I didn't take my temper out on you."

He took a breath and considered his words carefully if she wanted to makeup, she needed to know, he needed to know that he wasn't a toy to be played with, he was a person. "I stuck by you both in third year, when you were at each other's throats. I didn't take sides. I tried to be supportive of you both. And now we're fighting, and you walk out on me. I needed you, and you weren't there." Harry said, feeling hollow, empty and angry but too tired to express it or feel it properly anymore.

"I didn't have any friends before here. Before Hogwarts," Hermione said, "I was raised by nanny's when mum and dad were at work all the time, and constantly around adults the rest of the time. By the time I got to school I was too odd for the other kids, they didn't like me, and I don't know what to do with people my own age, they seemed pretty stupid honestly, young and frivolous. It was a relief that you seemed to talk like an adult too, and seemed to make more sense than most of the morons our age."

Harry snorted, and she smiled briefly and continued, "But even here I didn't have any friends until you two rescued me from the troll. Then I had you two, it was so nice, having friends. I didn't want that to change. "

She started again, "I know Ron, and I fight a lot, but when our positions had swapped, and I was the one trying to hold us together. I was worried we'd fall apart. I thought if you two could make up, we'd be okay. I don't want us to end." She said, "I didn't want to lose my friends, sometimes it feels like I'd just gotten them. I was scared you two fighting would result in me being alone again."

When he didn't say anything, she continued, "The more I think about it, the more I can see it from your point of view. I never thought he'd take it this far. I thought if you two just apologised to each other, you'd forget about it and put it behind you. But you tried, and he still turned on you. So I'm sorry Harry, for not seeing it clearly, for being so insistent."

"You were so convinced you were right," Harry said carefully, "you acted as if I had to do what you said. It was the same in history. Just because you disagree with me, doesn't mean I'm wrong. It doesn't mean you get to dictate how I act. You can ask, you can explain your point of view, I welcome it. But please don't try and force me or insist I have to do things your way. We're different people."

She looked hurt for a long moment, then took a breath, "do I really do that? I'm not really bossy, am I?" She asked.

He hesitated, and she said, "tell me."

After a moment, "you can be."

Her shoulders slumped, and she looked miserable, "you're just doing it wrong some times!" She said, sounding frustrated. Don't you see, how will you learn history if you don't pay attention! How will you save friendships if you don't make an effort! I thought we could fix it, that would make it work. I was wrong, I'm sorry." She said, trying to explain.

"I don't lean the same way you do," Harry said, deriding to tackle history first, "What works for you won't always work for me. I know it's important, but it's okay to go about it a different way." He explained, "he puts me to sleep, I can't stop that without blocking out the sound of his voice, instead, I study the syllabus, so I still learn what's necessary for OWLs."

"oh..." She said deflating a bit, "can I look at it?" She asked hesitantly.

"Yeah sure, he sighed, "as to Ron, I was so hurt I didn't know whether I wanted to save it, he treated me badly and wasn't there for me when I needed him. That's not friendship. But you insisted, so I did try. But I couldn't do all the work. As we discussed before, you weren't right in this case."

"I know, I'm sorry Harry, I just get so caught up sometimes. I guess I'm used to being the smartest, and people not realising things and being stupid. I'm used to being right all the time."

"You're not always the only one with an opinion and your right a lot, but not all the time. That's okay. But your treatment hurt," he said softly, "don't do it again. I didn't do anything wrong, I was civil, I kept my temper as much as I could, I tried to apologise and do what you said, despite deserving better and deserving an apology."

"I know," she said softly.

"I deserve better than that, I let everyone walk all over me before, but not anymore."

She nodded and said, "I think I understand now, Harry, why you're less inclined to forgive him. He's young and stupid, but he's been making choices that are hard to forgive. I shouldn't have pushed you two so much to make up. It wasn't fair and Ron... I didn't expect him to act like that. I don't think I want us all back together any more either."

Harry sighed and said steadily, "I'll be the first to admit I make mistakes, and I can be harsh on people, I rarely forgive. But I can't forgive him that, and I don't know if I want to. He's not who I thought he was."

"Yeah, I can see that now,"

They sat in silence for a moment, before she yawned and said, "I'm really sorry, that it all fell apart so quickly."

When he nodded, she asked hesitantly, "Forgive me?"

He sighed, he was torn really "I'm still mad, it hurt. I thought you'd gone for good."

"I just meant to leave to lose my shit somewhere else. So I didn't take it out on you. I just meant to leave to cool down. I was so mad at you both." She said before continuing. "I'll say something next time I storm off to cool down, okay? So you don't think I'm abandoning you."

"Yeah, okay." He said.

"So what now?" she said hesitantly, "are we okay? Are we good? You're my best friend, I don't want to have messed that up, please."

He looked at her for a long moment, he'd thought he'd lost his last friend, had been prepared to cope with it. That had hurt. Her treatment had hurt. But he didn't want to lose her, so things would have to be okay, wouldn't they? She seemed to be willing to try and mend fences. Did he give her another chance, he didn't normally as a general rule... but, she was one of his first friends. It took two people to make something work...

"Yeah," he said, patting her doona covered knee softly with their joint hand, "yeah, we're good."

"Really?" She said, beaming when he nodded.

"Now tell me about your mums blanket," she asked eagerly, knowing how much it would mean to her friend, "where did you find it?"

"Gringotts, I... That's what I was doing. I snuck out and went to Gringotts to find out about the contract and the spells." He said slowly.

"Oh, and it was bad news?"

"Yeah, can't get out of it, Dumbledore agreed to it, has his fingers in everything. He's controlling my trust vault too so I can't buy the books or anything except the essentials. On top of that, my magic is so messed up I'll need to wait till the holidays to clean it up," he said in a detached voice, too tired emotionally to feel anything at all.

"How?" She asked horrified.

"I'll go to Gringotts at Christmas. I'm not staying at school this year. I'll get it removed then. It's going to take a while. That's what I need the potions book for," he said, flipping through Moste Potente Potions, to show her, "We should sneak you out too, get you tested."

"You think it's a good idea?" She asked, chewing on her lip.

"Yeah, we could organise it over the holidays." Harry said, "I'll ask Bill or Rodgrip about if we'd need an appointment or who would do it. I have an account manager who did it all, but I'll ask her how we do it for you."

"We're not going to be able to untangle it all by ourselves are we?" she said before nodding, "after the first task, then.

He nodded, "hopefully, it won't be as complex to undo for you."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. It was never meant to be like this," she said quietly, "the wizarding world. It was meant to be so wonderful... Magical."

"I know, but, we're working on it," he said, "I found mum's bag in my trust vault. That's where the blanket's from. She had prepared this for my first year, just in case."

And he told her then, hesitantly at first, about the books, the bag, and slowly, in a detached voice, about his father.

"Oh Harry," she said, reaching as if to take his hand, before she stopped herself, remembering it often made him jumpy.

He paused for a moment, then slowly, reached out and took her hand again. Her hand was warm and dry on his own. It's lightweight reassuring despite the fact the contact made his skin tingle and felt too tight somehow. He looked up at her hesitantly, and she beamed at him. She squeezed his hand lightly, and he decided it wasn't so bad.

The following morning after Dobby popped in with a hot cup of one of Winky's smoothies (apple and cranberry this time), and his spoon of potions, Harry was feeling slightly more human. Dressing quickly, he re-warded his bed and grabbed his bag. He was about to don the cloak to head down to the forest when he paused, looking at his trunk speculatively. After thinking a moment, he pulled out one of the books on warding that he'd nicked from the restricted section and after silencing the book, used it to help him ward his trunk and bedside table to the high heavens.

He thought someone may have been poking around when he had been out yesterday. He was sick of people nosing around his business. It probably wouldn't keep any of the older years out, but it should keep is dorm mates out, and it was the best he could do at the moment.

Hermione was waiting in the common room for him. They crept out for a quick run. Harry told her excitedly about his conversation with Firenze, having forgotten the night before.

They were walking up to changing rooms when Hermione said, "I've been thinking about what you said last night."

"Oh?" Harry asked, feeling a little apprehensive, "about what you said about my opinion, not being the only one and different people learning differently and me being bossy" She said.

"I know they learn differently and have different opinions. But sometimes people are stupid, they made stupid mistakes that will hurt them in the long run because they can't see everything. It's irritating. How can I not say something? and tell them they're doing it wrong!" She asked, clearly frustrated and having thought about it at length.

Harry sighed as they stepped in the changing rooms and into different shower cubicles.

"I agree. People can be really stupid. They make poor decisions, can't seem to see how their choices affect them and others, and everyone here seems to be really bloody young. They are ruled by their hormones and cannot seem to make any sensible discussions. But sometimes people have to learn on their one. You'll get on a lot better with others if you wait for them to ask you for help or advice, instead of pushing it on them. Sometimes people don't want to be told how to do things. Sometimes the people get emotional you occasionally have to let them figure it out for themselves" He said carefully.

"Oh?" She asked.

"Like first year, with the hover charm. Ron wasn't open to constructive criticism, and you came across a bit strong as if you thought him stupid. That made him defensive, so he got angry and was mean to you. Some people are just stupid, but acting as if they are, just gets them angry. Just be a bit more patient with stupid people. It's not they're fault they're stupid." He said bluntly, "they'll like you more for it. I'm not saying hide your smarts, or not to be yourself. Just don't throw your intelligence in peoples face, it's intimidating. We know you're smart, you don't need to set out to prove it every day."

She frowned thinking about it for a long moment, "do you really think I try and dictate your actions?"

"I think it's just that you come on a bit strong, it's just sometimes you can be very insistent when I don't agree."

"I didn't realise."

He shrugged "It's fine, I shouldn't have said something earlier."

She nodded, looking a little miserable, but determined, "do you think that's why Lavender and Parvati don't like me?" She asked, "I wouldn't mind actually getting on with my dorm mates, but they don't like me, and I'm not sure why! They're just so girly and frivolous! who cares what the latest hair care product is when there is a test at the end of the week!"

Harry laughed, turning the shower off and getting dressed "yes, they're very silly, vastly different from your studiousness and seriousness. It's just different. That's okay."

"It seems stupid though," She said

"Yep, I think so too. But they obviously don't. If you look down on them obviously for something you don't like or prove of, they're not going to like that. they'll think you think them stupid and people don't like people who think them stupid."

"I guess they're just different..." she said after a while, "like a different skill set, mum does dental surgery and dad does orthodontics. their not stupid for not having the others skill set, just diffrent, they were interested in different fields" she said as they left the change rooms.

At that point Hermione left him and crept back to the castle, armed with a disillusionment charm and the map. Harry went back into the forest, to accompany Hagrid on his morning rounds.

Unfortunately, the morning seemed to be the highlight of the day, and the approaching date of the first task seemed to be creeping up on him. He skipped the great hall for breakfast and went straight to herbology, sitting with Neville and discussing culture.

Herbology was okay. Hermione worked tentatively with Lavender and Parvati, trying to med fences little. And Neville was happy to partner with him, and Harry had improved since he'd read the primer. He liked gardening, despite his relatives making him do it in the sun all summer; he did like plants. Professor Sprout seemed to be keen to use his and Neville's plant as an example an awful lot though. While Neville quietly glowed with pride, Harry had to stop himself from shrinking back and quaking under the attention. It made his heart beat a little faster, and his skin crawl.

But Harry did his best, and kept his head down; working hard. Hoping against hope that his sharp improvement since Halloween would not get back to Dumbledore. The last thing he needed was the old man's attention, not when Harry was running out of time before the first task and wasn't convinced he could protect himself if Dumbledore found out what he knew and tried to obliviate him again.

As a precaution, he wrote extensive notes at the break between classes and locked them in his trunk, a copy in his vault, a copy in his mum's bag as well as sending a set to Rodgrip. It was all he could do at the moment when he had to focus on the upcoming task.

Harry spoke to Miss Lovegood at lunch. Or rather he was in the kitchens eating lunch with Hermione, and she joined them, seemingly out of nowhere, seeming to know exactly what he wanted.

"Well Met, Harry Potter, I'd be happy to be your journalist, but Daddy doesn't like me signing contracts without showing an adult first. I'll get it back to you tomorrow though," she said before she had even sat down, "call me Luna."

He blinked at her, and it suddenly occurred to him, that maybe she wasn't as loopy as the roomer-mill implied.

"Harry," he said, "Well Met Luna," he said, holding out a hand formally, "this is Ms Hermione Granger."

Luna shook it with a dreamy smile and sat down with them as Hermione said, "Hello, Luna, nice to meet you."

"It's good that you've lost some of the Bumble-zingers that were stalking you, Harry. Dobby and Winky seem to be keeping them away quite nicely." She said, looking just past his right ear.

Harry frowned, wondering what a Bumble-zingers was and panicking slightly over how she could possibly know about Dobby and Winkey. Then he remembered what professor Trelawney has said about different sorts of divination beliefs. Maybe that's how Luna knew?

"What are Bumble-zingers?" Hermione asked sceptically, "I've never heard of them before."

"Not everyone can see them," she said lightly, "their float around people's head."

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again with a frown.

"I hadn't told anyone, " Harry cut in nervously, "how do you k-"

"The blubbering humdingers tell me," she said in a dreamy voice. Harry thought her magic felt slightly defensive and elbowed Hermione, who seemed to be about to question Luna on them again. He wondered if Luna used the creatures no one seemed to believe and the visage of madness to protect herself, the way he used cool detachment.

Harry nodded in understanding.

Not quite knowing what to say next, he pulled out the contract, "I'm glad they told you about the contract so that you could find me. I'd really appreciate your help. I need someone I know, and Skeeter seems intent on eating me alive" he explained, "as your the only journalist I've actually heard of, I figured maybe we could start working together."

Luna smiled then, brightly, "yes, it's much better without all the Bumble-zingers around you." She said, and he wondered if she was somehow referring to all of Dumbledore's manipulation.

The three of them chatted over the rest of lunch, and despite Hermione's scepticism over Luna's creatures, she was kind about it. Luna seemed happy to talk about all her preachers and answer all of Hermione's questions. Harry left to divination leaving behind a Bemused and curious Hermione who was still not too sure what to make of the dreamy girl's creatures.

Divination after lunch gave him the most food for thought though, and a welcome distraction from the dragons. With Firenze's warning in mind, Harry had painstakingly redone his star chart from violent made up deaths and redid it carefully cross-referencing his own divination book, and surprisingly, his fathers. While his father's book was obviously dog eared and mostly just used to scribble noughts and crosses in the margins, it was a remarkably useful text.

When he handed it in, he knew it would probably get a troll, for not giving the horrible predictions she wanted; but he was pleased. If he was going to be terrible at the subject, he may as well be honestly terrible and have tried hard anyway. He was pleased, however, that he had put in an honest effort.

What Firenze said about respect and magic had struck a chord with him. If cheating in divination was not only a waste of everyone's time, it made sense that disrespecting the subject was disrespecting magic. And with the way he could feel magic and Hogwarts, how could magic not be sentient? He liked it too much to disrespect it.

He wondered idly if there were wizening religions that worshipped magic or the land and magic. Muggles did, and they didn't even believe in magic. How could wizards not worship magic, when it was so beautiful? He settled to read the book his mum had on Wizarding religions later that night and focused on the lecture.

To his embarrassment, Professor Trelawney pulled him aside after class.

"I can see you have taken a different tactic with this one. Keep trying. The more you try, the better it will get," she said, and her voice was steadier, less dreamy than normal. He stopped himself from shifting uncomfortably under her gaze.

"I can tell you tried, well done." She continued.

Harry almost gaped at her and instead said, "Ma'am?"

"Magic rewards those who believe. Remember not to lie."

"But I thought you liked it when we foresaw our painful demises?" Harry asked, honestly confused.

"I gave you an O for your dedication to making it up and the way you referenced the stars to back up your claims." She said looking more than ever like an oversized dragonfly with her huge glasses and wispy silver-green shawl, "So far I can see little gift in you. You do not need a gift, or to agree with it, to try your best." She paused, fiddling with her model of the night sky.

It rang true to what Firenze had said, though he got the impression that she would not agree or approve of Firenze's ideas of divination, as much as Harry liked them.

With the now, rapid approach of the first task, Harry reluctantly put aside his study of Wizarding traditions and culture, to focus on his studies and his preparation for the task. But even then, between his extracurricular activities: working with Hagrid and Firenze in the forest, studying protection magic, his class load, his mothers textbooks, Runes and Arithmancy, mastering every spell in all his textbooks from years 1-7 (hopefully it would be enough), and then, the extra projects to try and keep himself alive, Harry was so busy he didn't have time to be emotional about the revelations at Gringotts. Not really.

Frankly, between everything he was learning, and doing just to keep himself in one piece, as well as learning everything available, he found himself often wishing for a time turner. There just wasn't enough time in the day to get everything done. And he definitely understood Hermione's yearning from third year to take all the subjects.

He was also finding that he could manage on less sleep now, which was just as well as he was running out of hours in the day, and had taken to scheduling obsessively to keep track of everything and get everything done. He was in the forest every day now, either with Firenze or Hagrid, either very early in the morning or late in the evening. Harry was becoming excellent at sneaking in and out.

The centaurs did not, unfortunately, have any wisdom to share with him about dragons, and were not impressed that the wizards in the castle intended to bring four of the creatures into their home. It had taken Harry a lot of wheedling to get Elda Magorian to agree to even exchange letters with Charlie to try and reach some sort of accord.

"unfortunately Elda, it's not as if Charlie and the dragons have many choices. I got the impression they don't want to be here either. I don't know for sure that they will hide them in the forest, but it seemed the most logical choice."

Magrodian and Ronan cast their gaze skyward for a long moment before saying, "send this Charlie to us when he arrives. We will speak to him. Pass along his letters in the meantime, and we shall read them. Make sure, young colt, that he knows the proper courtesies. I know you know them now." Magorian said after a while.

"Yes Elda," Harry said, before hurrying off to his morning history of magic class.

Harry had another interesting conversation with Neville later that week. While Harry was hesitant to get close to anyone, the other boy seemed happy to talk to him about culture, and herbology. Especially when Harry carefully pointed out how much herbology was part of potions, quietly in their Potions theory class on Tuesday. He had agreed to work with Neville in Potions if Neville could help explain why magical plants were so different from the normal ones. The primer hadn't really explained other than the obvious, magic.

Between the two of them, they both improved dramatically at potions. With Neville's deep understanding of plants and Harry's system, which helped counteract Nevilles forgetfulness and their terror of Professor Snape that seemed to cause accidents, they got better. It all helped. Especially when he showed Neville the shortcuts his mum had pointed out. They even started working out why they worked.

Unfortunately, their progress in potions together did not really improve their enjoyment. Harry no doubt did enjoy potions but they both still disliked Professor Snape. Despite having gotten Harry's letter, he gave no indication at all of having read it. So Harry kept his head down and tried to be as polite and formal as he could in his classes. It seemed to help a little.

Harry had taken to spending an enjoyable bit of time, after finishing his homework, on his broom, zooming through the trees that the Room of Requirement had provided as an obstacle, dodging flaming rocks Dobby and Winky were throwing at him. Fred and George had taken to joining them too and helped Dobby and Winky pelt him with flaming things. They had taken to casting small fire hexes at him. He got a few burns, but on the whole, he was getting much better at sensing something coming near him. And at brewing burn salve.

He was starting to slowly feel more confident in his progress in preparing for the dragons. He still didn't know if he could talk to them, but his fireproofing charms were getting better, and he had almost found the right combination of potions and runes to embed his clothes with that should slow any burning down.

He wondered idly, as he ducked another two flaming rocks, and a fireball from Fred, if maybe it was a good thing quidditch wasn't on this year. He thought he might just enjoy flying by himself more. Flying like this was exciting and quite fun. He had missed flying, but he was finding he didn't miss quidditch as much as he'd expected.

He'd been too terrified of being expelled and sent back to the Dursley's to protest back in first year when McGonagall had placed him on the team. It wasn't as if she had actually asked him. He had thought she was dragging him off to be caned. He'd been so relieved not to be, that he hadn't even thought to argue when she informed him he was now seeker. Even if he had managed to find the voice and the courage to do so.

At first, playing with so many big kids had terrified him, especially when Fred and George sent bludgers after him. It got better when Fred and George started teaching him Gobstones and joking with him. He did like flying he found.

Quidditch itself, however, still reminded him a bit too much of Dudley. Dudley had always loved group games as it had been a brilliant and sanctioned opportunity to pick on, and often beat Harry up. With so many players out to get the seeker, the deciding factor in the game, Harry found it an unpleasant reminder, when he wasn't totally lost in flying. He liked practice best when Oliver left him to his own devices to just fly around and catch the snitch. Harry could go up high out of the way of the game and just fly.

Maybe he would come to love the game too, but overall he loved the freedom of flying and would much rather be zooming between trees in the forest like a maniac, or flying in loops around the castle's turrets than doing seeker drills and chasing an elusive gold ball that he actually had trouble seeing. It was just as well that it glinted gold, and its magic had a distinct feel about it when he got close to it.

Now that he actually had time to fly regularly without quidditch, he wondered if maybe he could quit the team next year. It didn't feel so terrifying now that he knew he could still fly without quidditch. And he certainly wasn't feeling too charitable towards his housemates at the moment. He didn't really want to play with them or help them win the cup when they were so hot and cold.

Professor McGonagall cornered him in the corridor when they were on the way back to the common room. It seemed that while the whole of Slytherin heard about his apology to Malfoy, it had now spread to the whole school. Harry sighed. He'd expected as much, but he hadn't expected McGonagall to call him up on it. Her concern for him seemed slightly out of character.

"What's this I hear about you talking Etiquette with the Slytherins now Potter?" She asked him, and he couldn't quite read her face for some reason.

"I found a book, on wizarding etiquette, ma'am. I didn't realise my manners had been so poor, so I thought it best to apologise, ma'am." He said, trying to hedge around the issue a little, "I figured I don't need more people out to get me, ma'am."

She made a hmph noise and walked off, leaving Harry worried and a little puzzled.

What else had she heard?


	21. Chap 21 Charlie & his Dragons

The Gringotts mailbox had proven already, to be very useful. Rodgrip had sent Harry a contract to sign authorising Gringotts to take their fees from the family vaults along with an invoice of charges for Saturday night to finalise. Harry had signed it and asked for a copy of the charter or any, and all services Gringotts could cover. It was an interesting read.

He had also had used the box a few times previously to discuss the contract for a journalist with Rodgrip. Harry has asked her for a contract for Luna, not confident in his own drafting abilities. While she had stated numerous time that she was not a lawyer, she was able to help Harry draw up a safe and fair contract, that would protect Harry.

Rodgrip then corrects the amendments Harry made to it and had done it up properly, charging Harry a galleon for the service from his family vault and adding a postscript to her accompanying note saying, 'we are not lawyers, the treaty forbids us from practising Wizarding law...' But Harry noted with a smirk the Goblin hadn't refused to do it. There must be a loophole that let the goblins help with contracts and laws but not let on or admit it.

Harry had also been writing rather frequently to Bill and Charlie, now that the box made it so easy. He didn't confide in them, as much as he liked them, they were adults, and Harry didn't have the best track records with adults, no matter what Bill said about caring. And he just somehow couldn't bring himself to open up to anyone else, not after Ron had turned his back on him. Hermione hadn't, but she was still cross with the both of them about their' inability to just get over it and move on.' Which was starting to frustrate Harry.

He swapped notes with Bill about warding and curse-breaking as well as his runes arithmancy classes, which Bill had also taken in school. Bill had sent him notes on the earring but hadn't had time to make one yet. Now he was in England one day a week, his timetable was getting hectic, and Harry felt guilty for burdening the man, no matter what he said.

They swapped notes though, and Bill looked over Harry's project notes and sent them back with detailed additions and ideas that Harry was fascinated to read. It was brilliant. Bill used the box also to send him more books by Master Ripquill, most on goblins, though some were on wizards too. All of them were cynical, sarcastic and highly critical of human idiocy, which Harry found just as amusing as the first one. Bill also sent through another Occlumency book with helpful detailed exercises to help Harry prepare for their lesson on Saturday.

Charlie was happy to talk dragons with Harry; at great length. They also spent time swapping potions recipes for burns and fire protection, and Charlie gave him tips on how to use spells against them for the best results without hurting the dragons. It was clear from his writing that Charlie loved and adored his dragons. Charlie was rather impressed with Harry's project to fireproof his clothes and gave him a few tips, promising to help Harry test it out before the task without getting caught. It wouldn't protect him completely, but it should slow any burning or roasting down.

Charlie also gave him some dragon teeth and bits of shed scales.

"Bill mentioned you wanted to make stuff. The teeth fall out and grow back, they're not actually useful in potions, so we collect them. I give them to Bill as well. He said they're good for holding magic and small personal wards. Have a go. If not, try the scales, they're can be used in potions, but are also suitable for holding magic, especially in protective jewellery and the like. (Again, Bill's really good at it. He sells them on the side in the Egyptian markets to fellow curse-breakers. Not that he often admits it mind you, but he'll be able to give you a hand.

They also fall out all the time, so again, we just collect them and sell some. They're not worth much, so don't feel bad about me giving them away, perks fo the job."

So far, Harry had not managed to make a shielding band that could hold charge or absorb the energy of the spells it shielded. The dragon scales Charlie had sent him were helping him with this though. So far it had only blown up in his face 3 times. He had one band done though, a thick leather cord with a spelled dragon tooth, and some clay beads that had runes inscribed on them.

The band would work against low-level hexes and would only needed to be charged in the morning. It wasn't what he had been aiming for, but he was rather pleased with it. He was still working on a better one that would record the signature and name of whatever spells hit him. That would be vital in helping Harry stay clean of foreign spells after the cleansing ritual at Christmas. The library books on warding and blood magic that he had 'borrowed' from the restricted section were proving to be invaluable in letting him tie the bands to himself with his blood, and in using his blood to power them. He was hoping to get the bands to absorb the energy of the spells it shielded him from and use it to self-power. He hadn't worked it out yet, though.

Harry spent a lot of time reading now. His mum's books, the books from the restricted section, books from the Room of Requirement on protection magic, but mostly, everything he can get his hand on about Dragons. He had read just about everything in the library's small dragon section, and had broken into the restricted section and read everything there too.

It wasn't just Harry's slightly out of control desire to know everything, that fuelled his frantic reading. It was also a desperation to try to catch up to the seventh years competing in the tournament. That, and to not end up like a flame-grilled kabab when facing a dragon in front of hundreds of spectators. He frantically read and reread Charlie's big brick of a book all week. There was only a week to the task, and Harry was starting to feel the pressure, sure that he would fail. He really did not want to be burnt alive, and certainly not in front of everyone.

With all Harry's dragon-filled fervour of books and reviewing spells, potions and rune schemes, Harry had totally forgotten that Professor Flitwick wanted to talk to him until he pulled Harry aside after class on Wednesday.

"Mr Potter?" Professor Flitwick called out as charms were being let out, and Harry was about to slip into a nearby short cut to escape the crowd corridors.

"Sir?" Harry asked with a slight bow.

The Professor smiled gently at him and said, "I found something for you, Mr Potter."

Harry's face brightened briefly thinking of his mother, but he squashed down the hope viciously.

Hope never gets you anything but disappointment.

"Professor?" He asked, instead.

"I didn't find her trunk, Mr Potter, though I am sure it's here somewhere. I did manage to find one of her old books, and I also managed to get some photos off her off one of her old school friends," Professor Flitwick said, handing them to him.

Harry took them reverently and looked at the book first.

It was old and clearly well warn. He ran a finger over the inscription in the front that his grandmother had written, "to my darling Lily, so you know what your name means, as all women in our family should, love mum."

He flicked through its pages, reading the little notes in the margins. It seemed that Lily and her friend Sev had used the flower language like a secret code of sorts.

Harry looked at the photos with awe. There were 11 of them. Each one starred his mother. Some were from her later Hogwarts years. Most, however, were clearly from before Hogwarts or over the summer holidays in her first years. He looked at them trying to memorise every bit before lunch ended and he would have to give them back.

"Thank you, Professor. Please convey my deepest thanks to my mother's friend," Harry said his voice thick with feeling.

"You can keep them, Mr Potter, I made these copies for you," Professor Flitwick said softly

"What?" Harry said so startled he forgot to be formal, "I mean, really sir?"

Professor Flitwick laughed, "yes, Mr Potter, they're all yours."

"I- Thank you, sir! Just... thank you!" Harry exclaimed a bright smile on his face for what felt like the first time in days. He wondered if this friend was Sev. Did the Professor know him? He knew better than to ask.

"Sir?" He asked as Professor Flitwick was walking him to the door, "Please convey my deepest gratitude to her friend. I truly appreciate it. It means a lot to me."

"I will, Harry."

Harry got a letter late that night, it was well past curfew. He'd crawled into bed and was about to open Charlie's dragon book again, wanting to double-check something he couldn't quite remember about Hungarian Horntails when he realised his Gringotts box was glowing softly.

He opened it.

One note was from Rodgrip about the start of the audit, the journalism contract had been signed and filed, and all the leading papers would know about it come morning.

One note was from Bill with suggestions to improve his dragon proofing runes on his clothes, and a few answers to Harry's Occlumency questions.

The last note wasn't signed, but it didn't need to be. Harry recognised Charlie's handwriting immediately.

It was short, "On our way, SSS, CFB, HH! WG, hopefully, there won't be any scrambled eggs! Again, burn after reading. I got your notes about the centaurs. Good point about warning them. I can't believe after all the time I spent in there that I forgot about them! I appreciate your help, thanks. I've written them a letter. I kept all you said in mind. Can you pass it on for me? ETA late Friday."

SSS, CFB, HH! CWG, Harry thought as he burned Charlie's letter after extracting the letter for Magorian and putting it aside to give to him in the morning.

He flicked through the dragon book again, it took him a little while to figure it out, but he got there. The dragons: Swedish Short Snout, Chinese Fireball, Hungarian Horntail and a Common Welsh Green. Charlie thought that Harry had to be especially cautious of the Horntail. Harry gulped. They would be formidable. They were nesting mothers. With eggs.

That confirmed Harry's suspicious that they would likely have to steal an egg. Harry frowned. That was hardly fair on the netting mothers or the eggs. He could practically feel Charlie's barely concealed worry and fury thought the letter.

Harry was up stupidly early the next morning, with his bow.

"I have a letter from Charlie," Harry said as soon as he saw Ronan who was greeting him that morning, "it's for Elda Magorian."

They gathered in a clearing and Harry watched as Magorian hashed out solutions to the problem with the herd elders, Firenze, Bane and Ronan.

"We will find them a clearing big enough for 4 dragons, out of the way, but easy for them to get to without them trampling too far into our forest. They will ward it and will keep their people and dragons from roaming. They will be watched by the herd to make sure they do not cause trouble," Magorian had explained to Harry, as he handed over the letter of reply they had written.

The next two days passed in a blur of frantic studying. Harry spent all his time, when not in a class, flicking between Charlie's dragon book, his mothers spell books, and having Hermione quiz him and double and triple-check his potion recipes, his fire charms, and his notes on the runes he would use on his clothes.

In the end, they snuck out of the castle and into the forest on Friday after class and went for a long run, to burn off some of his nervous energy so he could actually get some work done.

After copious overpowered cleaning charms and Reparos, the shack was still dilapidated. But it was a clean dilapidated and was slightly less broken than before. He set up a small potions lab on the table in the main room, off the kitchen, and brewed more burn salve, an antidote to the poison on the Horntails tail's spines, just in case, as well as a large batch of the two most potent fireproofing potions in the book.

He soaked a set of robes in them, and some of Dudleys off casts before charming them with as many warding spells and fireproofing spells as he could think of and then layered on some runes that he painstakingly stitched into the hems and collars. By the time he was done, it was very late, and he had seen no sign of Charlie or dragons.

Harry woke up after a restless sleep, to Dobby shaking him awake. He fell off the couch with a yelp and blinked blearily.

"Dobby?" He asked, fumbling for his glasses.

"You's fire Weazey is coming, Harry Potter sir!" Dobby said.

"Charlie?" Harry asked, eagerly.

Dobby nodded, his bat-like ears flapping vigorously.

"Brilliant. Are they in the forest?" Harry asked.

"Not yet, sir. Fire Weazey and his party has just spoken to bad Whiskers and Winkey's old Mr Crouch, sir. He's now off to see Centaurs, his party is still in the airs sir!" Dobby squeaked.

Harry scrambled to get ready, pulling on his black borrowed coat from the Room of Requirement and activated the masking charm and warming charms before hurrying out of the shack; casting silencing charms on his feet.

He knew which clearing the centaurs would be placing the dragons in, and headed straight there. The grounds seemed deserted, and Harry couldn't see anyone, Dumbledore or from the ministry on the grounds. He quickly raised his hood and ducked into the forest behind the willow, armed with his wand, bow and the three arrows he had so far managed to make.

Magorian, Bane and Firenze were already there. It was a huge clearing, deeper into the forest than people normally went, and Harry wondered if they would hold the task there too. He hoped not. He didn't want that many people in there. He didn't think the centaurs would either.

He quietly moved up into a tree nearby and crouched high in its branches above the Centaurs, watching. Ronan entered the clearing, followed by Charlie Weasley; broom over his shoulder.

"Greetings Elda Magorian," Charlie said arm across his chest, hand on his shoulder as Harry had described to him, and bowed respectfully.

Magorian stepped forward and said, "greetings Dragon Bringer."

Charlie frowned, and said, "Yes, unfortunate that. Sorry. I apologies, on behalf of my group for invading your lands. We shall do our best to honour our agreement and make as little impact as we can."

Bane shifted on his hooves slightly and backed up, somewhat closer to Harry's tree, so he was standing underneath and said, very softly, without looking up, "I know you're there Harry Potter."

"How Elda?" Harry breathed, knowing Bane would be able to hear him.

"You reek of magic ill content" Bane replied as if it obvious.

Harry frowned but nodded, "I'll fix it soon. I made another arrow," he said, passing two down, "don't try and burn it though. I got a bit distracted, and it got coated in fire retardant potion."

The centaur raised an eyebrow at that but looked up at him for a long moment, as if judging him. When he didn't find Harry too wanting, he nodded and after scrutinising the arrows, added them to his quiver to take back to the herd with a nod. Harry watched him move away, feeling slightly less numb. That was almost approval from the distrustful centaur.

Harry watched with great curiosity as Charlie placed something on the ground in the middle of the clearing and tapped it with his wand. It expanded and seemed to unfold itself to cover most of the clearing in a huge matt. From it appeared to spring four large rocky pens.

That done Charlie pointed his wand into the sky and shot off green sparks.

Four large crates materialised over one the of the pens, levitated by about 30 wizards on brooms. There were about 7 or 8 wizards to each crate. They must have been disillusioned Harry thought idly, as he watched them lower a crate into a pen. They then landed and set about warding the pens, waving their wands intently for a good 30 minutes.

Harry crept silently down from his tree. The centaurs had gone now, blending back into their forest. He slunk around the clearing closer to where Charlie and the dragons were. He climbed back up onto another larger tree branch and crept along one of the branches overhanging the edge of the clearing to have a closer look.

When the pens were warded, the wizards vanished the crates revealing...

Harry froze and nearly fell out of his tree. The books did not do them justice at all, though Charlie's sketches had come close.

Dragons.

Four furious, or perhaps terrified, mother dragons. Each fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking females, rearing on their hind legs protectively over their eggs. They were vast. Big enough that he felt that one could easily have opened her jaws and swallowed him whole. The sky was suddenly alight with flames shooting out of large fang-lined jaws, fifty feet into the air. The dragons were clearly unhappy with the sudden change in accommodation.

The flames shot up astonishingly fast into the sky and even from the distance of his tree, Harry could feel the heat.

He recognised the silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground, the Swedish Short snout. The smooth-scaled Common Welsh Green was writhing and stamping with all her might circling her clutch of eggs. The red Chinese Fireball, with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around her face was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air and over her eggs. Lastly, the Horntail, a gigantic black dragon, more lizard-like than the others, was screeching deafeningly.

He felt as if the welling panic and terror that he had managed to keep at bay all week, threatened to rise up and eat him alive.

He looked at the dragons. They were glorious. He could feel their wild magic from where he crouched in his tree. Magnificently fierce, untamed and beautifully free. Everything he was not. Envy burned in his gut. Dumbledore's magic smothered his own, controlling him, making him feel things he didn't on top of everything else. It tightened somehow within him, as he emotions swelled at the sight of the dragons, so fierce and free. He could feel their magic crackling around him, making the foreign magic within him twitch and bite. It was slowly overwhelming him. It would kill him if it didn't send him insane.

He could feel it swelling up, the magic inside of him, against the foreign magic trying to drown him, to eat him, obliterate him to leave a blank pawn in its wake.

So he did what he'd always done, back at the Dursley's, on the streets of London, in his lonely, dark cupboard when it all got to much. He took all that icy panic, the uncertainty, the painful yearning, envy, the aching disappointment and the bone biting terror. He took it all and turned it into hate and anger. Two powerful forces he was not above using to make himself capable of surviving.

He used the fire of hatred and anger to smother everything that he felt, forcing it deep down inside, until there was nothing left. Every little painful jaded memory that the icy fear always triggered, every little impulse not his own, that the foreign magic made to play him like a fiddle.

He pushed it all down and deep into the box deep in his soul and used the anger to stitch the broken pieces back together. He used the burning hatred to shove Dumbledore's magic back a little, to force out that which did not belong. And he used the sharp cynicism and spite, that he had long held back, to keep everything locked away and held together, and force an empty strength into his weak limbs. He would not let the world eat him alive.

It hurt.

It hurt fiercely with an intensity that few things matched. He felt like he was being torn in two as he raged against the magic controlling him. He wanted to scream with it, to writhe and shake with it. And yet he just curled in a ball tiny in the heart of the tree and was silent and still as he fought and raged inside.

Don't make a noise, don't let them know, don't let them see you cry.

He fought it with everything he had so he could think again, breath again, feel like himself again. He couldn't wait until Christmas to free, it would kill him. So he shoved, desperately with all he had, until he felt something burst free from the sickly ball of magic mess in his chest. It slid free and oozed out of him with enough pain to make him see stars. In its wake, something slid into place inside, and it was not all of it, it was not fixed, he was not free... But the small change was like coming home.

He still couldn't feel his own magic, and the knotted mess in his chest was still there, heavy and slimy and like a ball of snotty puke, but it was a little less. He couldn't feel his magic, but he could think again and thought he may just have managed to throw some of the compulsions off.

He could push back the aching, crushing disappointment, at the state of his magic, more properly now. It left his hands slightly unsteady, shaking with how empty and detached he felt, but he could force all the emotion away so he could think again

He surveyed the dragons again with a cool detachment that had kept him alive as a young child, that Hogwarts and Dumbledore tried to squash out of him. But it was free now, he felt more himself than he had in years. He was still scared, terrified. While he may not be able to feel it now, he knew logically that he must deep down, He was a scrawny 14 year old expected to face a dragon that it took 5 grown wizards to subdue. He must be scared, but he didn't really feel it anymore, just a slight tremble in his hands and a very slight dizziness when he moved that spoke of slight panic.

But finally, he could think again, and his mind was… well not free, but clearer than it had been in years.

The wizards in the clearing had grabbed onto the chains fastened to leather straps on the dragons and were frantically attempting to control the furious, terrified beasts. Harry watched with detached horror, slightly mesmerised by the beauty of the dragons.

The Horntail was thrashing, her catlike eyes wide, either terrified or furious. Their magic was too strong, too wild and feral for him to make out their emotions within it.

She was making a terrible noise, a yowling, screeching scream, that he almost felt he could understand. It sounded vaguely familiar.

"It's no good!" yelled a wizard. "Stunning, on three!"

Harry saw each of the dragon keepers pull out their wands. Charlie counted off, and all at once, they shouted, "Stupefy!"

The Stunning Spells shot towards the dragons, lighting up the night, creating a shower of red sparks as the spells hit the dragons resistant hide.

Several tons of dragon swayed slightly, her jaws stretched in a silent howl that tugged at Harry's detached heart. She fell slowly. Smoke still trailing from her jaws. She hit the ground with a thud, that nearly shook Harry out of his tree. He was very relieved that she hadn't fallen on her eggs, though. That would have been tragic, he thought.

The keepers hurried forward to tighten the chains securely to iron pegs, which they forced deep into the ground with their wands. Harry felt a bit sick, looking at such magnificent creatures tied up like that and had to focus hard on not seeing his cupboard.

"Gods, you're stunning," Harry said sadly, not even noticing that he'd slipped into the hissing patterns of Parseltongue, "and they using you for sport."

How could Charlie do that to them, he thought, staring at them.

Notes:

the whomping willow - I have always envisioned the whomping willow on the edge of the forest, not in the middle of the grounds like JKs map shows. I also always envisioned the forest continuing north of the school to the edge of the village and into the mountains edges, I thought the village being nestled between the two, with the mountains at one end of the road and forest (though the forest near the town would be a lot thinner) at the other. I assumed therefor that you probably could access the shack though both the town and the forest. If its at the edge of the forest the tunnel from the willow to the shack would not be too outrageously long crossing the school and the town. Either way its not actually up for debate, this is how I've written it :)

Charlies letter  
SSS, CFB, HH, WG, hopefully there wont be any scrambled eggs.  
Translation:  
We are on our way, the dragons we are bringing are a Swedish short snout, a Chinese fireball, a Hungarian horntail (watch out for that one) and a common welsh green. They are using real nesting mothers, and their eggs, with will be part of the task. I'm really mad about it, I don't want any eggs hurt.

Also I'm working next Saturday when I normally post, so the update may be a little later than normal


	22. Chapter 22 Dragon Proofing

Notes:  
Sorry it's late, had work today

Thank you for all your lovely comments! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Harry'd spend hours listening to the dragons, they're speech very similar to parse young but not quite. He'd felt he'd had it when he fell asleep. Almost felt as if something had clicked in his brain, he reached out with his mind, feeling their presence, feeling their magic, feeling their emotions and looked at them, willing himself to see, to understand.

And he'd almost had it. When he fell asleep.

His dreams were filled with a hissing language he could almost understand through his shut cupboard door. The dreams were full of a painful yearning sensation as he banged on it, desperate to be let out.

He woke up very early, only the intense sticking charm he'd cast the night before, had stopped him falling out of his tree.

Most of the dragons were asleep now, curled around their eggs, but the Horntail is away, dozing around her eggs, crooning to them, breathing fire on them. It was a different fire from the one she let out when first let out of the cage, it's a blue fire this time. Hotter, and makes the eggs glow slightly. It was fascinating to watch. Harry listened to her, focusing on the cadences of her voice. It was so very like parseltongue.

Charlie had been doing the early morning watch when he thought he saw something twitch in the far side of the clearing from where his boss and colleagues had set up their tents. Frowning and wondering if maybe the centaurs were back, he crossed around the edge of the pens to look.

Curled up in a small ball in the branch of a big old oak was Harry. Wrapped in a shabby but warm-looking hooded cloak, his face turned away from Charlie facing the dragons, was Harry. He rounded the tree to glance at Harry's face; it was half-covered by the hood.

Harry seemed both healthier now that over the summer but also not

While he's clearly gain some much-needed weight, he was still skinny and had huge exhausted bags under his eyes. Something about the way Harry held himself screamed 'stay away ', and it looked as if the boy carried the whole world on his shoulders, even curled up in the tree as he was. Charlie wanted to hug him tight and wrap him in a blanket with a hot cup of tea.

Instead, he glanced up at the glassy-eyed boy and said softly, "Hey Harry, good to see you again."

Harry jerked, was caught by the sticking charm and jabbed his wand in the direction of his attacker.

"Charlie!" He whisper yelled

"Sorry," Charlie murmured, putting a hand on Harrys back to steady him, his wide-eyed at the wand Harry suddenly had in his face, "I didn't mean to startle you."

Harry shifted on the branch, received the sticking charm. Harry rubbed his eyes and straightened his coat, it was still wonderfully warm.

"How are you Harry," Charlie said

"Fine," Harry said blankly he didn't feel much of anything this morning.

"I hope you're fine after this lot," he said grimly, "I didn't dare tell mum, she'd be having kittens already after that article-"

Harry scowled as he cut Charlie off sharply, "its all rubbish, she shouldn't believe it!"

Charlie nodded and said, "I know it was mostly rubbish, but I'll let her know Harry. You sure you're okay?"

Harry nodded but got distracted by the dragons behind him again.

The Horntail was still breathing fire, sleepily onto her clutch crooning softly.

"Beautiful, aren't they," Charlie said, climbing up on to the branch next to him.

Harry held back a flinch at how close he was but nodded.

"How can you do that to them," he asked softly, "chain them up like that?"

Charlie's face immediately darkened, and Harry scrambled back, but Charlie said, "we didn't have a choice, Harry, the ministry got involved. And if we wanted to keep out funding for the sanctuary, we had to do what they wanted this time. I agree they deserve to be wild and free, and at the reserve it's different, they're warded in and safe to just be what they are. But here, we have to keep them under control, so they don't hurt themselves or anyone else. They have little space and are already vicious because its clutching season, add the move on top of it, the only way to keep them safe, is to chain them up, just whole their here, and to spell them when we can't calm them down," Charlie said, looking at Harry with deep, fathomless eyes that held something sad Harry could quite read.

"It's different at home, normally, it's not like this, I promise," Charlie said.

"Why just stunning them, though?" Harry asked, looking at Charlie with such big sad eyes that seem far too old.

Charlie realised what Harry's really asking him he hopes down, so he's looking up at Harry, closer to his eye level and says, "Harry, I promise you, I will never mistreat my dragons or let anyone else hurt them if I can help it. I promise you. They were agitated from the trip over, normally back home, their in warded areas, we can let them fly it off, burn it off or rage all they like, but here they only have tiny pens and its close to a school of children, and we don't have the same heavy-duty wards here. It's too dangerous to let them be that mad this close to the school. It's safer for them and us to stun, they'll wake up a bit calmer. They're okay I promise" Harry looked worried.

"I won't let anyone hurt the dragons," Charlie murmured.

Harry sighed, he didn't like it, but he understood. He pushed the emotion aside and looked at them again, with a slightly critical eye this time.

"I had my suspiciousness about the task, I had hoped to be wrong, but they're going to make us steel one," Harry asked glancing away from the dragons to look at Charlie's face.

Charlie's expression darkened, and he said, "I hope not but, we haven't been told the tasks, but either way, they put a geas on us, I literals cannot talk about the-" Charlie was cut off, looking furious.

"You can't talk about the tournament?" Harry finished

Charlie nodded.

"But dragons are okay?"

"Yes, dragons in general of course, just not why they're he-" he cut off again scowling.

"It's fine, I'm pretty sure I have it figured out. I don't think they just want us to get past it, they're nesting mothers, there would be eggs to and nesting mothers a fierce. I think they want us to steal an egg." Harry said.

"That would be suicide! For the eggs and for you!" Charlie whispered furiously, not wanting to wake anyone else.

"When have wizards ever cared about the health of a player when it comes to Wizarding entertainment. Jut look at quidditch? I love flying, adore it, and I even like quidditch well enough, but if Dumbledore hadn't caught me when I fell in third year, I'd be dead. Few people are powerful enough to actually slow a fall like that, from 50m in the air. I'm skinny and light, but the further you fall, the heavier you get, the more force pushing down. I think it's like a tone for every meter or, 10kg for every meter or something like that? Not sure, and actually, I don't care. But the point is I don't think I would have survived if not for his power, none of the students could have done it, even with a cushioning charm and slowing the fall, I should have broken things."

"So they want you to steal from a mother dragon," Charlie said, finding he could say the words now Harry had already said it.

"yep."

Charlie swore violently, slipping into what Harry thought might of been Romanian.

"I'd hoped they wouldn't, when they insisted on mothers, we'd said it was clutching season, but they had insisted, but promised they would be safe. But this!"

Charlie hopped off the tree branch, "I gotta go wake my boss, this isn't quite confirmation, but we need to talk about it." Charlie said before dashing off around the edge of the pens.

Harry watched him go, turning his gaze back to the dragons. The welsh green was away too now, breathing on her eggs, not fire, but just hot breath. She was also crooning at them. Slipping his invisibility cloak out of this pocket, and put it on and kept closer to the dragons.

He stopped just out of flaming distance, of the welsh green who looked slightly less dangerous than the Horntail. He wasn't stupid, but now he's a bit closer he's hoping to be able to understand them better. He pulled the cloak tighter around himself as the wind picked up in the clearing. The dragons head suddenly lifted, her tongue flicking out like a snake's, tasting the air, Harry froze.

She let out a long his, looking straight at him. It took Harry a moment, longer to get his ear in, her accent was much stronger than a snake's, it had a different lilt and cadence, she emphasised different points on the words, but he could understand it!

"I know you are there, I can't see you, but I can smell you, stay away!" She hissed, "their mine! I won't let you have them!"

"Can you understand me?" He hissed back, curious not daring to hope, hope got you killed or disappointed.

She let out a low rumbling growl and hissed, "stay away thief, I won't let your talking distract me!"

Carefully Harry lowered the hood of his cloak so she could see his hooded head, and said, "I don't want your eggs ma'am,"

She hissed threateningly again at him, and she took a step back.

"Do you know why you're here?" He asked

She curled her body around her nest tighter and stained at him.

"There is a tournament they are making a few students compete in, we don't have a choice." He started but stopped to reconsider his words when she just looked at him blankly.

He tried again, "there is a hunt coming, they are making hatchlings hunt, its dangerous and it may kill us, they want us to face you on the hunt. They want us, I think to take an egg. But I don't want too!" He said hurriedly when her lips pulled back into a silent snarl of fury.

"I don't want to take your eggs, but they'll make us, I'll be killed if I don't try!" Harry said urgently.

"I won't let you have them, you're nothing to me, hatchling maybe, but not my hatchling. I won't sacrifice their safety for one of someone else's." She hissed dangerously, "I will not let anyone take my eggs! Leave!" She hissed flames licking at her jaws now.

Deciding it was better to cut his losses, Harry didn't stay to test out his 'dragon proof' clothes. He'd probably end up torched if he pissed her off any more. He hurried away, his mind racing, yes he could talk to them, but they would not be reasoned with. And rightly so. So he will have to probably rely on out flying it and maybe using a switching spell. He sighed, he'd have to make sure the potions and the broom were stashed nearby so he could summon them more easily.

He spent most of the morning hidden in the shack double and triple-checking his notes and potions. He almost forgot to crawl out and meet Bill until Dobby popped in to remind him.

Harry pulled his broom out of his bag and flew up the hole at the top of the still broken spiral stairs. The attic it seemed, had survived the werewolf. It was dark and dimply lit despite a circular window that Harry though would be just big enough for Bill to fly though. He cast a few intense cleaning charms and watched in amusement as the dust swirled together in a giant corkscrew getting smaller and smaller before it vanished with a soft 'pft,' noise. He crossed to the window. The latch was stiff but opened when he pushed it. The window creaked loudly, and Harry made a mental note to oil the hinge. He peered out, just in time to see Bill apparate into the ground of the shack. Harry peered around, there was no one else within eyesight.

"Hey Bill," he called softly, hoping his voice would not carry too far in the still quiet morning.

Bill glanced up, grinned and mounted his broom. When he had flown through the window, and followed Harry down through the hole in the floor into the main room of the shake, he grinned.

"Hey Harry," he said, pulling him in for a hug.

Harry didn't really want to resist it. As ashamed as he was, he really wanted another hug, he was still embarrassed about how weak Bill had seen him before. He couldn't afford to be weak. And craving affection; that was weak.

Bill seemed to sense his hesitation though, and dropped his arms, holding out a hand instead. Harry carful shook it.

"Hi Bill," he said, "thanks for coming."

"My pleasure, Harry, but first, there's something you need to see," Bill said, "how do you get out of here onto the grounds?"

"I know about the dragons, I saw Charlie this morning." Harry said, "their brilliant, terrifying but brilliant!" He grinned

Bill snorted, "you look as love-struck as Charlie does when he talks about them. I'm glad you know about them though, he said he'd written to you, and that he'd lent you his book, but I wasn't sure if you knew, they were here yet or not."

"He has. He's been brilliant," Harry said gratefully

"He is that," Bill said, "right let's get to work then, being as the task is on Tuesday, lets first go over your runes for your fireproofing and see if we can test it out, first. Then we'll go over some warding before we finish with occlumency. Occlumency lessons can be challenging and exhausting, so we'll do that last." Bill explained and they got to work, Harry showing Bill his notes and Bill cast quite a few sophisticated detections and testing spells over the clothes he had spelled, potioned and stitched runes into.

Bill walked him through each spell, and what it was for and praised Harry when he got each one right on the first go.

"The runes you've stitched in should work really well together, you have also used tiny stitches, which is good, it keeps the lines strong and continuous," Bill said gesturing to the runes Harry had stitched in with red thread.

"I used red for protection and strength, and it's a lucky colour too," Harry explained, pulling across one of his books, that he had referenced when picking a thread colour, it was that or green, green's a natural colour, but red seemed a smarter choice,"

"Brilliant," Bill said, "I think these will withstand dragon fire if you power them up strongly enough, I don't think they will be strong enough just being charged ordinarily. I think you'll need a charging ritual under the moon, or you can power it with your blood." Bill said, carefully watching Harry's reaction.

But Harry had never been a typical wizard and having read the book on blood magic from the restricted section said, "I had thought about it, but the book I borrowed on blood magic really just talks about the theory not how to actually do it."

Bill nodded, "it's actually pretty simple, blood magic is complex in some ways, but it's all about intent. With these, you can just bleed on the runes, or even just the pain power rune you have here,"

"I was a bit torn between which rune to use as the bower binder, I was tossing up between Laguz or Isa, water and ice, or using Sowuli, the sun as its made of fire so maybe it will help me protect from fire, or even Alzig, as its a protection one. But I ended up going with the traditional Urus power rune, and bound it to the others as a secondary power away," Harry explained gesturing to the runes he had stitched.

"I think its a good choice, water and ice, will help as they the counterbalance agents to fire, which your protecting against, and will help Alzig as the intent rune, I see where you were thinking with Sowuly, but it think as the power rune it would have backfired on you, and it would have caused too much unbalance with the other components especially when its to keep you safe from dragon fire," Bill explained

They picked apart Harry's choice and reasoning a bit more before Bill showed him how to power the runes with his blood, "now you could have done it before you stitched them, its a bit stronger that way, you could have used spit too if your squeamish, but blood is stronger," he explained, "you could either wet the thread first before you stitch them, but as their already done, just cut your finder and rest a bit of blood into each run."

Bill explained as Harry pulled out a knife, "is order important?" Harry asked.

"Yes, same order you stitched them in, so intent first, then the secondary specification runes, then lastly your power rune," Bill said, "remember intent is important, so like you would have done with the stitching, think about each rune and what you want it to do when you charge them with your blood, and what you want the blood to do. Magic is always about intent."

Harry cut his finger and focusing hard on what he wanted, what he intended, pressed blood carefully to each rune, pressing some magic into them as he did so. When he was done he tapped them each with his want to activate it, as Bill has explained and he could feel the cloth come to life in his hands, thrumming with magic.

"Wow," he said grinning, "this is awesome!"

"Well done, let's go test it out, if Charlie's around he'll let us in as long as the captain doesn't catch us," Bill said with a grin, clearly looking forward to seeing his brother.

They left the shrieking shack through the camping willow, Bill pleased by it when Harry showed him how it worked, "wow, Charlie and I never worked this out when we were in school!"

And Harry led Bill carefully into the forest, explain, as he had with Hermione about it being centaur land and that they had to respect the forest, the earth and the centaurs as well if they were going be in there.

They chatted about it for a while but fell silent as they approached the clearing housing the dragons. Firenze was standing in the trees nearly as they approached and nodded to them, but didn't say anything.

They lurked in the trees, watching as wizards ran about the clearing doing different things and Bill kept an eye out for Charlie.

"It may be best," Harry said after a moment, seeing all the wizards moving about the space now that the sun was properly up, "if you go in and test it with Charlie. They probably won't question you being there, but if they see a student, we'll be in trouble as no-one is meant to know."

"Probably a good idea, they're used to me showing up at all sorts to visit Charlie," Bill said, "They won't question it,"

Harry hade him the shirt, "I figured we should just levitate it in front of a dragon and see what happens when she tried to burn it."

Bill chuckled and nodded, "its a plan, we'll try and get the Chinese fireball to do it, she's closer and burns hotter, so you'll be able to see what happens."

Harry watched as Bill bounded into the clearing, having spotted Charlie now, and called out his name as he approached the closest tent to where Harry was.

A red-head shot out of the tent and tackled Bill into a hug. Harry felt an odd twisting sensation is his chest at their natural warmth and affection. He wanted that. They laughed as Bill caught Charlie, but still fell over and they ended up on the ground laughing and hugging each other. He looked away and viciously shoved that little warm curdle of mourning down.

"It's so good to see you!" Charlie exclaimed as Bill hauled him up, "I didn't know you were coming, today didn't think Harry's lessons would start till after the task."

Charlie clearly knew about the job Gringotts gave Bill teaching Harry. Harry wondered how much Bill had told him, and how he managed it with all the secrecy oaths Bill had. Harry was torn between being uncomfortable knowing he'd told Charlie but also not. Bill and Charlie seemed really close, almost like the twins were. Harry would not have expected Fred to keep anything from George. Maybe Bill and Charlie were like that? He thought about it for a moment, he knew he shouldn't, he really knew he shouldn't but, he realised, he was okay with it, he trusted Bill and Charlie. As much as he scolded himself for taking that risk.

Harry found him envying their easy, close relationship. Especially when Bill wrapped an arm casually around his brother as they walked around the clearing heading briefly into another tent, talking fast.

They both seemed quite tactile, Harry thought. After growing up where he was often only touched with disgust or to cause him pain, he found the idea of such casual, friendly touches very foreign. It sounded nice, though. He wondered what that was like, trusting someone like that, having someone to confide in, to lean on. He wanted that, that closeness, that easy affection and care and hated that he did want it.

He ruthlessly shoved the feelings down again and locked them up tight in the little box inside. It didn't work like that in the real world. Orphaned freaks didn't get things like that, in the real world. Hugs and caring didn't keep you fed, or warm at night, or safe from people stabbing you in the back. He really liked Bill and Charlie, but now that he could think a bit clearer, he knew better than to let them too close.

He looked away but focused on the dragon again as Charle and Bill came out of the tent. Charlie held up a hand briefly in the direction of the trees where Harry was, making him smile. The two brothers went up to the fireball. They were not within flaming distance, and Charlie levitated the shirt in front of her cautiously.

She looked at it with beady eyes, letting out a low rumbling hiss that even from here, Harry could hear and understand, "go away."

When the shirt kept approaching, she let out another warning hiss, before flaming it. The shirt was engulfed by flame for a long moment. Bill yanked Charlie back towards the trees, not wanting to insight her wrath. But Charlie just laughed, not at all startled or worried by the flames that were not quite close enough to scorch him. He just kept levitating shirt as the fire went out.

Harry was ecstatic to see that the shirt seemed unharmed. It had worked.

A man was hurrying over though, and Harry quickly scrambled up into a tree so as not to be found. No-one ever looked up.

"Well? Did your idea work?" The man asked Charlie.

"It wasn't my idea sir," Charlie said, "a friend of Bill's made it," to the man who Harry assumed was his boss.

"Excellent, see that they get in contact with us then. I think we would be interested in working with them to develop something like this or even purchasing some off them. It would be good to have something fireproof under our dragon hide pants and vest. Show me again? Let's test a different dragon's fire," He said gesturing to the short snout.

To Harry's great relief and pride, the shirt held up to all four dragon's fire, though it was starting to look a bit singed after being subjected to four long bouts of flame.

"Thanks, Charlie," Bill said, clapping his brother on the back, "we appreciate it," Bill said after the boss had left.

"Any time Bill, you know I'm always happy to play with dragons," Charlie said with a grin, making his brother chuckle, before he said more seriously, "let him know I'm happy to help, and that may be powering something with something cold or even a water rune or something, may increase the length of the shirts resistance."

"I'll let him know," Bill said, "you going to join us for lunch? Where in the shack, bring your broom and fly in through the attic window,"

"We'll see how this morning goes, we need to settle the gardens back down, and inspect the arena they have put together for the task. I'll send you a message, though, if I can't make it." Charlie replied, pulling his brother into another hug.

"Fair enough," Bill said, as Charlie gave another wave in the direction of the tree's where Harry was hidden and went back to the Dragons.

Bill and Harry snuck back along the edge of the forest and crept back into the shrieking check via the camping willow.

"What next?" Harry asked Bill, "what did you want to go over today?"

"I figured we'd start on some detection charms and simple counters for spelled objects and things, as well as some containment spells and a few basic wards," Bill said pulling out his wand, "there are also some other wards that we can spell onto your clothes, and if your happy using blood runes stitched into the lining that opens up another realm of possibilities on ways we can use wards to keep you safe," Bill said as Harry pulled out a notebook and pen.

Startled, Harry looked up sometime later from where he was stitching the last rune into another test shirt, to see Charlie fly through the attic floor and landed in front of him.

"Hi," Charlie said, looking around curiously.

"Charlie, you made it!" Bill said getting up from the table to clap his brother on the back, only to have Charlie pull him into another hug.

"Yup, the ministry didn't bungle the construction up too much, so I was let off for a proper lunch," he said before turning to Harry who trying to avoid another hug, didn't get up from the table. Charlie frowned slightly as if puzzled but squeezed his shoulder in greeting instead, making him jump.

"Well done, Harry!" Charlie said, "that was brilliant."

"Hi, Charlie," Harry replied, "thanks."

"The boss was pretty impressed," Charlie said with a grin, "you should definitely look into patenting the design when this is over, we really would be interested in helping you test out all the kinks in the design and buying some off you," Charlie said joining them at the table.

"Really? You sure?" Harry asked

"totally," said Charlie, "we have dragon hide boots and pants, and a vest, but we can't be totally covered in dragonhide. It's not only expensive, but it's just not practical to wear a whole shirt of it. It is hard to wash, dragonhide natural retells water, but its also just not that comfortable and the cheaper stuff is rather stiff. Fine for pants, and a vest but not great for arm movement and stuff, not every day."

"So having fire-resistant shirts to protect your arms and neck under the vests would be really good," Harry said, thinking on it, "I wouldn't even know where to start. I guess if you send me some shirts, I can do the spell work and potions and the runes, but it's powered by blood. I'd need your blood to charge them up, and not many people are comfortable with that," Harry said, thinking aloud.

"Or we could later, after the task, work out some sort of array to tie it to the wizards magic." Bill suggested, "You could then set it up, and they would just need to activate it if they really don't want to use blood. It may actually work better, if they're seriously under fire for a while, their magic will keep it going."

"Think on it, Harry," Charlie said, "in the meantime, how are you feeling about the task?"

"They defiantly won't be talked into giving me an egg. I'll have to transfigure a rock and so a switching spell, or summon it, or just outfly her unless they add an imposter egg to her clutch and I can persuade her to give that up," Harry said pragmatically.

Charlie nodded, "well, I sincerely hope they add a fake at least. Using real eggs is too dangers, I don't know why the boss agreed to it," he said fuming.

"I'll do my best to keep them safe, Charlie," Harry said, feeling he should probably put a hand on his arm or something to reassure him, but couldn't.

"I know you will, Harry," Charlie smiled, "did you give any thoughts to using a water rune?" He asked

"Yeah, it worked under normal fire but started steaming pretty badly, even with a drying charm. The water rune is just too soggy. Dragon fire is even hotter, I'd end up being burnt from the steam alone. An ice rune helped, it makes the shirt a bit cooler, but there was still a similar problem with steam" Harry explained, showing Charlie the new rune scheme.

"In the end, I revisited my old ideas of using sigil magic. I combined the sigils into the rune scheme, to help balance the ice run. It seems to have given it extra stability." He explained, pointing at the new additions, "it works fine under a long bout of ordinary fire."

Charlie beamed and clapped Harry on the back in congratulations, "Brilliant. Want me to test it for you?"

"Can I sneak down after tea and watch?" Harry asked, "there are two different versions, we'll see which ones work best."

"Sure thing, come past around 8? I should be able to sneak away for a bit then, assuming things go smoothly if they get riled up too much. I may have to send the shirts back via the box, we can chat about it that way" Charlie said.

"Thanks," Harry said greatly.

They spent an enjoyable lunch together, cooked by Winky and Dobby going over the runes on the shirts and brainstorming how Harry could patent the design and get it up and running as something he could sell.

Before he left, Charlie wrapped Harry in a goodbye hug.

"Careful Harry" Bill teased, making Harry jump. "He's a Hugger. He can respect boundaries, but he'll barnacle onto you given half a chance."

Charlie snorted punched his brother on the arm and wrapped him in a bear hug before he mounted his broom and zoomed out of the shack with a jaunty wave over his shoulder.

Bill then looked at Harry in an almost, analytical way.

"If he's making you uncomfortable, tell him," Bill said slowly, "he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. He'll respect your boundaries."

"What?" Harry asked, looking a bit like a deer in the headlights.

"Charlie." Bill said, "He's a very tactile person with those he likes. Some people need casual touch more than others" Bill explained, "Charlie can be like a barnacle. He craves affectionate touch with those he likes and is very tactile in showing his affection. He's an octopus, a very handsy that one, but a harmless one. He'll stop if you don't like it."

Harry had the self-control not to squirm under the scrutiny as Bill continued, "I've seen you flinch and jump Harry. Don't think you have to put up with it to be friends with him." Bill assured

"I, um I don't,-" stuttered Harry, torn. He hated the fact he liked being hugged and touched. His uncle touched him all the time, and it hurt, whether a belt, a fist or a shoe. Could Harry really risk letting anyone else close enough to possibly blow up at him later? Hermione was different, and even then, her touch made him uncomfortable. Why were Bill and Charlie different? Why did he feel safe with their hugs? He scowled irritated at himself.

"I'll tell him to stop okay, Harry," bill said, "you don't need to worry about it," he turned to head out after Charlie.

"No!" Harry called out, reaching out and grabbing Bill's shirt back before he could stop himself, "no, please don't."

Bill turned back to him slightly, looking serious, "You never have to put up with anything that makes you uncomfortable, Harry. Neither of us wants that, it's okay to speak up if you don't want a hug, or if you have an opinion," Bill bent down slightly, so he was at Harry's eye level, "no means no, that extends to hugs and casual touches too. And Charlies a firm believer in that. It's important to him, Harry. He cares about you and doesn't want you uncomfortable. You're allowed to have feelings and opinions and for those to be heard."

"I-" Harry stuttered, confused and conflicted, still clutching Bill's shirt back in one hand.

On the one hand, touch still startled him and was an odd sensation. At times uncomfortable. But on the other hand, he found an odd warmth in casual, friendly touch that he found himself craving like he was starved. And he hated himself for that weakness.

He hated himself for craving how warm and safe and cared for their hugs had made him feel; hated how close to the surface his emotions became when they hugged him, and hated how much it melted all his barriers and for how weak that made him.

But he liked it. And found himself wanting more hugs. The idea of Charlie stopping, filled him with an odd heavy dread and an unhappy feeling inside.

"Don't," he said again, "please. I, its..."

"You sure you're comfortable with it?" Bill asked, and Harry was floored. When had anyone actually cared before?

"I... it's strange, I'm not used to it, but I, I don't mind." Harry got out slowly, "its nice?" He said not entirely sure yet.

Bill studied him intently for a long moment, and Harry found himself unable to meet his gaze, but Bill just pulled him into a brief hug.

"I was a bit surprised myself," he said, "Charlie's pretty friendly, but he normally takes longer to warm up to people before he starts being so easily affectionate. There are very few people he actually likes. So consider yourself lucky to be one of the few."


	23. Chapter 23 Moody & Hagrid

Opps lets try the right chapter this time...

This chapter is for CraftyWitchDoctor, who wrote an epic review.

Happy reading

Bill and Harry spent the afternoon on Occlumency. Occlumency was both easier with another person who knew what they were doing; and harder. Easier, as there was someone to explain it and tell him what he was doing wrong. But harder as someone who knew what they were doing was actually trying to break into his mind. It was also harder to let go and focus inward with someone else in the room.

Bill had assured him that he had the right idea of clearing his mind, he just needed to work on bringing that mental state up more often, and faster.

"Ideally, you want to be able to occlude all the time," he explained, "when you get more proficient at it, clearing your mind is like sinking back inside your self. you'll then be able to build shields around you that you can safely think and feel behind while the outer mind is clear and therefore doesn't show anything to the person who attacks or read it."

"That's pretty advanced, though. So for the moment, we are going to practice you clearing your mind to start accessing that inner self, and have you learn to start sensing someone in or around your mind."

He continued, "as you have a natural aptitude for the mind arts, it should come more easily to you when you have the blocks off. The fact your magic is all screwy could make it hard for you to feel others magic interacting with your own. We'll wait and see, ready?" He asked

Harry took a deep, steadying breath, cleared his mind and nodded, trying not to twitch as Bill raised his wand at Harry. Harry had to force himself to look Bill hesitantly in the eye. He hated looking people in the eye.

"I'll be gentle Harry, I won't push, I promise," Bill reassured, seeming to sense his nerves.

Harry took another breath and nodded.

"Legilimens," Bill murmured.

Harry could already sense Bill's magic from being in the same room. The spell, however, seemed to amplify it and focus it into a beam or a tendril. Legilimency was odd, Harry thought, he and Hermione had defiantly been doing it wrong. Bill's magic seemed to reach out to him, not harshly, but it was an odd focused sort of feeling. Harry got the impression that it could have been harsh and painful if Bill hadn't been trying to make it both gentle, but noticeable enough for Harry to feel it.

Bill's magic gave another soft nudge against him. As soon as it touched his own, Harry lost track of it, getting confused in the sickly swirling ball of wrong , that he could now feel if he focused very hard on clearing his mind and feeling his magic.

Images flashed past him; Ron storming away, Bill and Charlie hugging giving Harry an odd almost longing sensation, he was reading Charlie's dragon book so grateful, he was walking through London with Bill, he was chatting with Hermione about his mum's blanket, he was in his cupboard... He panicked.

Thud.

Harry was on the floor, panting, his eyes clamped tightly shut, his head a little sore, feeling as if he'd run a mile.

"I... I could feel you at first," Harry said, getting up slowly, pushing back his mortification that Bill had seen those memories. A numb feeling washed over him, bring with it a slight unsteadiness.

"You okay?" Bill said, reaching out a hand to steady him.

Harry flinched at the contact, already jumpy from the Legilimency and the memories but made himself not move away. Bill's warm hand burned against his back almost comfortingly.

"I lost it. When it touched my magic, it was like I couldn't feel it any more," Harry said, letting Bill lead him to the sofa.

Bill nodded, "let's give it another go now you know what to expect. See if you can keep track of it. It's brilliant; you can feel my magic before it gets to you. That's not common, and it's brilliant you can sense it. It gives you a great advantage."

"Hermione can't," Harry said, "she can't feel magic. Not places, not people or objects. She can only feel her own. I don't understand it, she thinks no-one can feel magic." He started, "I can, though."

Bill nodded, "Sensing magic is a 7th sense, like sight and smell. But not everyone has it. No-one knows why. Those that do have the sense do not always have it as strongly as you seem to. Charlie and I have it, but the twins can only sense magic if they're touching things, though they can sense each other. We're the only ones in our family with any of the mage sense at all."

When Harry looked up and frowned, Bill continued, "mage sense is what we call that sense."

Harry nodded, slightly relieved that he wasn't a freak because of this too.

"Occlumency, will it get easier? Or can I not do it because I can't feel my magic, because it's bound?" Harry asked.

"We'll have to wait and see. We'll give it a few more goes. If that doesn't work, we'll have to wait till we get you unbound." Bill said after thinking a moment, "if that's so, there are still things we can do in the meantime to keep you safe. There are techniques you can use, other than just not meeting peoples eyes."

Harry nodded, very relieved, "brilliant, let's try it again then."

At Harry's insistence, they had continued well after Bill had advised they should stop. Despite his best efforts, as soon as Bill's magic interacted with his own, Harry could no longer feel it and therefore no longer defend against it. Resulting in him, currently, being totally rubbish at that particular method of Occlumency.

"It's okay Harry," Bill assured him, "after you get the bindings removed, it will change. We'll focus on something else for now." He explained, going on to discuss other meditations and mental exercises Harry could use to build up his mental shields.

"Focusing on one thing specifically; something you can see, feel, or hear, is a good way to keep a person out of your head. That focus will mean all your outer thoughts will be on that one thing, so the Legilimens won't notice anything else without going deeper. That is much harder without eye contact." Bill explained reassuringly.

After they had practised that, he recommended another way of Harry learning Occlumency. "Another way is to meditate on yourself. Go deep into your self, like when you look for your magic. Instead of focusing on that, focus on letting your mind drift and centre. Let it settle. Don't think about anything in particular. Let yourself sink inside your mind."

Bill went on, "It's harder this way, but you will get to a point where you find the centre of your mind. It will appear like a vast expanse. Often, some can see their magic there, some can't. It's that place that you can build defences around. It's the inner mind. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing. That is the centre of it all."

"Remember when I said, ideally when you occlude and clear your mind, you'll sink back into yourself?" He asked.

Harry nodded, and Bill went on, "well, that's what I mean. By building shields and visualising shields in that place, you can make an inner defence. While you cannot stop someone getting past the minds natural outer defences while you can't feel your magic, you should be able to work on the inner ones. It relies heavily on visualisation and belief." He explained, "I have another book on it that will be more helpful for you in this method."

Harry nodded, feeling less morose and despite his headache, was eager to get some meditating done. Especially when Bill said Occlumency would help him cope with and handle his emotions better, and he privately hoped, his nightmares.

"You can use Occlumency to push emotions back," Bill said, "it can help you think clearly in dangerous situations when emotions like panic can be an issue," he'd explained, "but it's important to then meditate on them late and let yourself process them. It's really unhealthy to just stop yourself feeling. It makes your magic volatile and can make you really sick. The shields will collapse eventually, and you'll have a meltdown." He explained with a shudder.

"Another thing about this method is - one of the reasons it works if you can't feel magic - is by knowing yourself. By knowing your own mind. You'll have to analyse and watch all your memories, and sort them. But by knowing yourself, you can know what is intruding. Even if you can't feel magic, you'll know what does and does not belong. It can also help fight off compulsions and things, and obliviates. Though that's challenging and should be only attempted with caution." Bill said.

"let me know when you find the place, it's different for everyone," he said, looking at his watch, "then we can discuss the next step with the memories. That has to happen first before you work on visualising shields and what you want it to look like."

Harry, when Bill left, returned to the castle, exhausted but determined. He eagerly pulled Hermione over to one of the armchairs in a back corner of the common room and explained the whole thing to her in a hushed whisper. They ended up discussing it at great length and were late for dinner.

Harry snuck back out of the castle that night after dinner and went down to the dragons. Approaching the clearing, Harry suddenly wondered how Charlie would know he was there, without anyone else noticing. Thinking on it, he watched Charlie working around the campsite and inched closer. When he thought he saw Charlie looking towards the forest, he shot green sparks out of his wand and hurriedly climbed a tree incase someone else came to investigate.

Charlie seemed to notice the sparks, and when he spotted them light up a second time, slipped away into the trees.

"Harry?" He asked, looking around.

There was a rustling, and Harry's head appeared from under his invisibility cloak.

"can we test the shirts?" Harry asked, eagerly.

"Yep, spoke to the Boss, he's looking forward to it. But I may not be able to get away or to give them back to you tonight. The dragons got pretty riled up last time, so I may need to send them back through the box, okay?" Charlie explained.

Harry stayed in a tree by the edge of the clearing as Charlie tested the new shirts on the dragons. One was immediately burnt to a crisp, and Harry thought that might be the one that he had tried to use an ambient magic sigil on to power instead of his blood. The other shirt held up very well under all four dragons flames and considerably longer than the first time. He was very pleased with himself.

It took a while for the Dragon keepers to calm them down afterwards, and Harry was sorry that they had been riled up. But Charlie and his Boss were grinning, pleased that the test and worked. Harry, instead of going back inside, stayed on the edge of the clearing under the cloak and tried to understand the different dragons.

The Horntail and the Welsh Green were the easiest. Their dialects seemed to the most similar to true Parseltongue. The Chinese Fireball and the Swedish Short Snout seemed to be harder to understand, but the more Harry listened, the easier it got to understand their 'accent,' or 'dialect' as it were.

Charlie snuck out later that night and returned the remaining shirt to Harry. He was pleased to see it was the shirt powered by his blood, that he had added a few strengthening and balancing sigils to the previous design. After looking at it closely with Charlie, they made a few final tweaks to the design before deciding that if Harry was blasted with dragon fire, as long the magic cloth covered him completely, it should protect him just fine.

Harry went back the Gryffindor tower intent on doing up all his clothes like that, just in case. He stayed up late into the following morning spelling, stitching and brewing more flameproof potions to soak a school robe and clothes in for the task. And by the time he'd coated all the thread in his blood, that he was stitching the runes and sigils with, he had a number of small nicks and cuts on his fingers.

Waking later that morning after a little sleep, Harry found himself very reluctant to go and be in the hustle and bustle of the village with so many people. Especially when students were still hexing him, making snide comments and nasty glares, and quoting the article at him. If that was students, he hated to think what the villagers would do. Despite knowing he needed to go to Hogsmeade to get his eyes checked, he still wasn't looking forward to it.

"Come on, Harry, it will be good for you to get outside for a bit!" Hermione wheedled.

"I've been outside loads," he protested gesturing to the forest.

"Off the grounds then," she amended, "get your mind off everything. You've been studying so madly this week, I feel as if I've hardly seen you," she said, taking his hand and tugging him towards the gates.

He groaned, "fine, but I'm wearing my cloak. I don't want everyone staring at me."

She huffed, "fine. I don't like talking to you with that on. I never know if I'm actually looking at you or not."

"I'm shorter than you by a good few inches, so odds are if you look down, you'll be right," he joked deprecatingly

She snorted but nodded, "okay, let's go then."

They walked down to the village in the weak November sun, Harry toasty and warm under his invisibility cloak, and the charmed coat he'd liberated from the room of requirement.

It was liberating being out and about under the cloak. Out of the castle and with no-one knowing he was there, no-one was staring. He felt he could let his guard down a little from watching for hexes, and while there were still many of Malfoy's badges on students cloaks, they were not flashing POTTER STINKS at him.

"What do you want to do first?" Harry asked as they approached the main street.

"Well, we should go to the eye place first. Then we have the rest of the day to ourselves," Hermione suggested.

"Not going to spend any of it with Ron?" He asked curiously.

"no," she said shortly, "he's going with the twins and Lea, and he's hanging out with Seamus and Dean now anyway. I still think he'll come round eventually, but I don't want to be around his jealousy and hot headiness at the moment." She said carefully.

Harry nodded, then realising she couldn't see him, said, "okay."

"He's normally pretty slow to anger, except when it comes to Malfoy or his family. I was a bit surprised he blew up at this, but I guess it just got too much for him. And while slow to anger, I guess it's slow to fade too," she went on, and Harry made a noncommittal noise, not wanting to talk about Ron.

Harry ducked behind a tree to pull the cloak off as they got to close the eye healers building. It was a small looking shop front, with a large pair of eyes above the doorway, that Harry thought was a bit creepy the way they seemed to be following the people around.

Hermione pushed the shop door open, and a bell tingled. One wall was filled with different glasses and monocles, the other had a bunch of cubicles with chairs in it. The back wall had a desk, a couch and a closed door.

The witch behind the desk looked up as they entered. She looked surprised to see Harry but didn't say anything other than, "can I help you?"

"Erm," he said suddenly nervous, "my astronomy professor said to get my eyes checked, but I'm not sure I can afford it."

She frowned at him but said, "the initial visit is covered by your school fees; your teacher wrote ahead to us. Any glasses adjustments, however, will come out of your own pocket. We can do it now, or you can book an appointment." She said.

He glanced at Hermione briefly, but when she shrugged and smiled at him, he said, "er, now please."

"Right," the witch said, moving out behind the chair and directing him to one of the chairs in the cubicles, "when was your last Optiwitch appointment and who did you see?"

"Erm," he said, sitting down, glad he was sitting with his back to the wall, "never."

She made a tutting noise, and said, "Okay then what about a muggle eye healer?"

"Never," he repeated awkwardly. Behind the Optiwitch, Hermione frowned.

The Optiwitch tutted, clearly not believing him but took out her wand, "well then, I'm going to cast some spells on your eyes and that will tell us the state of your vision, what your prescription currently is and what can be done to help your sight," she explained in a concise manner.

That, more than anything helped him not flinch when she pointed her wand at his eyeballs. A muttered spell and a few moments later a slip of paper had appeared, and she peered at it.

"Well, your vision is terrible. And it has been made worse by wearing the wrong glasses. Unfortunately, we can't correct your sight now at all. Maybe when you've stopped growing. But we can get you new glasses today. You can't get contact lenses until your eyes have settled." She explained.

Harry blinked, not sure what to make of it. He pushed back any fury he may have felt, at the implication that his eyes would be better if the Dursley's had just taken him to an optometrist. Instead, he asked, "what are my options, glasses-wise then?"

"Well you'll need prism lenses, your eyes clearly turn in. How you've kept them straight this long, without pain is beyond me."

He frowned, confused, and she said, "when you relax your eyes, you go cross-eyed, don't you? Or when you get very tired, it's hard to keep them straight?"

"Yes, but... isn't that just what eyes do? Isn't everyone cross-eyes when they do that?" He asked puzzled.

"No," she said very firmly, "eyes are meant to naturally be straight. The muscles attaching to your eye on one side, are quite tight, and on the other side weaker. That makes them turn in so badly. You've managed to keep them straight, in order to see clearly, without double vision so far, but I bet it's really tiring. And your eyes start to hurt pretty easily."

He nodded, and she kept going, "prism lenses will bend the light a bit for you, so you won't need to work so hard to see straight. They will do all the hard work for you."

"Oh!" Harry said, "really?"

"Of course. Easy as a pumpkin pasty. It doesn't happen as often. Most people just need reading glasses, but it's common enough." She said

"We could put fresh lenses into these, but they've been magically repaired so many times, it could break them. They're only muggle plastic. Plastic doesn't hold magic very well. You'd be better being a fresh pair. We have some cheap metal frames like those if you're on a tight budget." She said

"Well, I don't want glasses like these. I really don't like them, but I do need something cheap and something that won't break easily. I have 10 galleons tops," Harry said, not wanting to spend every last penny he had for the foreseeable future, but knowing he really needed new classes.

"Right then. Do you want square, round, oval, half-moon, or rim free?" She asked.

He blinked dumfounded for a moment, looking at the wall of glasses. There were so many options! He'd never had a choice of that kind before. He was feeling out of his depth when Hermione came to his rescue, "try some on Harry, then you can figure out what you like and don't like." she suggested.

After a while, he found he liked the oval-shaped ones, with thin metal frames. He found a cheap black pair and asked about the prices for the additional spells.

"Well those glasses are 2 Galleons, but your lenses will be 1 Galleon each, as they are prism lenses, which cost more. They need a special type of glass to hold the magic without warping. Each charm or spell is an additional Galleon," she said.

"We offer anti-breaking charms, anti-summoning, self-cleaning charms, water-repelling charms, climate adapting charms, (suitable for dark rooms or sunny days) and also offer a low-level mage sight charm (though you need guardian permission for that,) and there are additions to glasses for Aurors and Curse-breakers but you need proof of occupation for them," she said.

Harry thought about it for a minute then settled on the anti-summoning, but skipped the rest. He could cast the water-repelling and anti-breaking charm 'impervious,' himself. He was tempted to get a backup pair but refrained, thinking about how he still needed some money left to find lodgings over Christmas.

"Here," she said, tapping a pair and waving her wand in a complicated pattern over each lens, then over the frames as well.

He put his new glasses on and nearly fell over in shock. He could feel his eyes relax immediately, not working so painfully hard to keep his vision strait. It was so easy! And his vision. Everything was so clear! Before everything had always been a little blurry around the edges, especially when he was tired. Now everything was clearly defined with sharp lines and solid edges. And the clarity! It was all so clear!

He looked across the room and could read all of the text on the diagram on the other wall, and turning to look through the shop window. He could read the titles and signs outside the other shops across the streets. He'd never been able to read with such little effort before, and with so much clarity.

Hermione was grinding at his awestruck expression, and the lady seemed to find it amusing too.

"For a reaction that good, I'll give you the second pair for free," she said, "haven't had that pleased a reaction to being given glasses in years."

They left the eye shop. Harry back under the cloak, and hidden from sight, let himself look around with the wide-eyed astonishment and wonder that he normally would have hidden had people been able to see him. He didn't need to let them see another of his weaknesses. Hermione led him through a few of her favourite shops, the junk shop, the book shop and the apothecary, before they stopped at the Three broomsticks, narrowly avoiding a very grumpy looking Rita Skeeter.

"I wonder if she'd be in a mood because Luna signed my journalist contract. Skeeter can't write about me now," Harry murmured with a vindicated smile.

Hermione burst out laughing at that, drawing a few looks as they crossed to a table at the back of the pub.

"I look like such an idiot talking to my self" she grumbled, "just as well I brought something to work on," she said pulling out a notebook with S.P.E.W on the front of it.

"I've changed my main goals," she muttered to Harry as he slid his butterbeer under the cloak, "I'm going to partition to get laws changed so that people cannot abuse house-elves. They need to be bound to wizards to stay healthy. But we need laws to protect them so that they cannot be abused. If they're mistreated, they should be able to obtain permission for freedom, or they can refuse an order or ask to be free if they wish," She muttered.

"Still want better working conditions and wages?" He asked curiously.

"Yes," she said, "but I have been talking to Tippy about house-elf culture and what they actually want. We can't come to an agreement on wages and time off. So in the meantime, I'm working for gaining them more rights." she explained, and they slipped into companionable silence as they sipped their drinks.

Harry's mind drifted to Sirius, and the knot in his chest tightened. He was looking forward to it. Maybe. But he was also apprehensive and worried. He was angry at Sirius still, for how he acted in school, for running to Dumbledore. He wasn't sure what to say. On the one hand, he was burning to ask about his father, but also wondering if it was better not to know.

"Look there's Hagrid," Hermione said, nudging Harry's foot with her toe, making him jump.

Harry looked, across the room to see Hagrid leaning down to talk to Professor Moody. Hagrid had a huge tankard of mulled mead in front of him. Moody had his hipflask; to the great irritation of Madame Rosmerta. They got up to leave, and Harry waved before he remembered he was wearing the cloak and Hagrid would not be able to see him.

But to his surprise horror, Moody paused and seemed to look right at Harry. He tapped Hagrid on the back (not being able to reach any higher), and after muttering something, they both headed over.

"Ello' ermione," Hagrid said loudly.

"Hello, Hagrid, Professor," said Hermione, smiling.

Moody limped around the table and bent down as if to look at the S.P.E.W. notebook, but Harry could see his magical eye looking right at him. He froze.

"Nice cloak, Potter," he muttered.

His heart beating a little faster, Harry said, "Your eye, it can- I mean, can you?" He trailed off awkwardly, still on edge.

"Yep. It can see through Invisibility Cloaks," Moody said quietly. "And it's come in useful at times, I can tell you."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that. He liked Moody, but honestly, the fact he could see through his cloak made him nervous. He relied on his cloak so much to hide, and now he couldn't, not from Moody. And with someone out to kill him, Harry felt very uncomfortable not being able to hide. That and he didn't know Moody. He didn't trust Moody. Not if he was Dumbledore's friend.

Harry made a mental note then and there to always wear his borrowed black travelling cloak underneath the invisibility cloak, at least with the hood of it up, his face was concealed. That way even if Moody could see through it, he might not know it was Harry. Although not many people had invisibility cloaks...

"Oh, and Potter," Moody said as an afterthought, "nice socks."

Harry blinked and looked down, then pulled up the hem of his robes and baggy jeans up to look at them. He couldn't even remember what ones he put on. He pealed back the top of his black socks to reveal the ones underneath... Oh, the luridly orange ones with purple pineapples. He winced, someone had given them to Dudley as a gag gift. Harry had ended up with them. They were almost more horrible than the rest, but at least no-one else had worn them.

Then he froze.

Moody could see his socks. Moody could see his socks under all his other layers... He shivered but was shaken out of his thoughts, by Hagrid bending down as if reading the S.P.E.W. notebook as well.

He said in a whisper so low that only Harry could hear it, "Harry, come down to me cabin tonight, midnight under that cloak."

Harry startled, Moody must have told Hagrid he was there. Hagrid straightened and said loudly, "good ter see yeh, Hermione," winked, and left. Moody following him out.

"Moody can see through the cloak," Harry said breathlessly when they'd gone.

"I had wondered. That really just confirms it. He knew Parvati was reading a magazine under the desks in one of his lessons," Hermione said, seeming slightly less disturbed than Harry.

"What else can he see-through?" Harry wondered, worriedly.

"What did Hagrid want?" Hermione said, changing the subject not quite as paranoid as her friend.

"Wanted me to meet him tonight at his hut, at midnight."

"I wonder what he wants?" She pondered, "its odd for him to ask you so late. Unless it's to see something in the forest that prefers the dark." Hermione wondered.

"No, I don't think so," Harry said, curiously, "I reckon he knows about the dragons. I'd be surprised if he didn't" he said feeling warmth bloom in his chest.

"You'll only have an hour before you meet Sirius," Hermione said, "that's cutting it fine."

"I'll keep an eye on the time. I think it's worth going. Hagrid might know something," Harry said as they walked back up to the castle.

And indeed Hagrid did.

Harry snuck down to Hagrid's just before Midnight later that evening. By this point, he was an old hand at sneaking in and out of the common room despite there still being people up. He'd gotten very good at putting up short-term notice-me-not wards around the portrait hole, allowing him to open it and slip through without people noticing it moving on its own.

He was a little more cautious sneaking out this time, checking the map before every doorway and turn in case Moody was around. He'd have to work out how Moody's eye worked and what its limits were. He needed a way to hide from it. He shuddered at the thought of Moody not only being able to see through his cloak, but also his clothes.

But he didn't notice Moody on the corridors in the map, and nor did he run into him. Moody seemed to be in his quarters behind the defence office along with... Barty Crouch of all people.

Though Crouch had been head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Maybe they were friends? Or discussing the tournament? Harry thought it odd, but honestly, had more important things to worry about right then.

Hagrid, when Harry got there, was looking very odd. It was clear that he had put a lot of effort into his appearance that night. Not only was he wearing an artichoke like flower in his buttonhole, but seemed to have doused his hair in axle grease in an attempt to tame it, leaving tiny bits of broken comb in his beard.

"That you 'arry?" He asked

Harry pulled the hood of the cloaks back enough so Hagrid could see his face, "what's going on Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"I got sommat so show ye," he said before striding off before Harry could get a word in edgewise, clearly very excited about something.

Curiosity peaked, but cautious too, Harry silenced his feet and pulled his cloak over his face again as he followed Hagrid to the... Beauxbatons Carriage?

"Hagrid, what?" Harry whispered only to be shooshed.

When Hagrid knocked, Madame Maxime opened it wearing a silk shawl wrapped around her massive shoulders. She smiled at Hagrid.

"Ah, 'Agrid . . . is it time?"

"Bong-sewer," said Hagrid, beaming, holding out a hand to help her down the golden steps.

Harry followed them past the paddock with the Abraxian horses and into the forest, Harry running to keep up.

It seemed Madame Maxime was as curious as Harry for she asked, "vair is it you are taking me, 'Agrid?"

"Yeh'll enjoy this," said Hagrid gruffly, "worth seein', trust me. On'y - don' go tellin' anyone I showed yeh, mind? Yeh're not s'posed ter know."

"Of course not," said Madame Maxime, fluttering her long black eyelashes.

And Harry had a sinking feeling that he knew where this was going, as he followed them into the forest and along the path to the dragons. Despite knowing what Hagrid wanted him to see, and it did warm him to know his friend was looking out for him, Harry was keen to get back to the common room. As much as he was conflicted about Sirius, Harry didn't like being late for anything. He couldn't resist seeing the dragons again, or Charlie, though.

As they approached the dragons, Harry could hear them before he could see them. They were angry tonight, and Harry wondered what had provoked them. He could hear the handlers shouting and the dragons letting out deafening, earsplitting roars.

The initial effect the dragons had on Harry had not diminished. They were still awe-inspiring and terrifying, still captivatingly fascinating and so beautiful it was hard to tear his eyes away from them. Harry wished he was seeing them for any other reason than having to go up against them.

He was drawn out of his musings when Hagrid turned to Madame Maxime and asked, "Wan' a closer look?" The pair of them moved right up to the fence, that was now around the edge of the clearing.

"Keep back there, Hagrid!" yelled Charlie near the fence. He was straining on the chain he was holding. It seemed that the Horntail had broken free of her initial pen. One of the ground pegs looked to have come loose.

"They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I've seen this Horntail do forty!" Charlie called out, and despite himself, Harry grinned.

"Is'n' it beautiful?" said Hagrid softly.

"It's no good!" yelled another wizard. "Stunning Spells, on the count of three!"

Harry saw each of the dragon keepers pull out his wand and shout, "Stupefy!" in unison. Like the other night, the dragon teetered dangerously on her back legs; then, very slowly, fell. Several tons of sinewy dragon hit the ground hard. Charlie and the other tamers frantically levitated the dragon back into her own large pen and refastened the pegs into the ground before re-warding the pen tightly.

"All right, Hagrid?" Charlie panted, coming over to talk. "They should be okay now - we put them out with a Sleeping Draft on the way here, it lasted longer than we had anticipated. But with those ministry fellows stomping around this arvo, well, like you saw, they weren't happy, not happy at all."

"Saw that ministry fellow dropping off gold eggs. They going to be used in the task Charlie?" Hagrid asked

Relief washed over Harry. If they had fake eggs, he wouldn't have to steal a real one. He wasn't sure if he could bear stealing and risking a real dragon egg. All for a stupid wizard game...

"Can't talk about it, Hagrid," Charlie said, "did you have to bring her?" He asked gesturing to Madame Maxime, "she'll tell her champion."

"Thought she'd like to see," Hagrid said

Charlie narrowed his eyes at Madame Maxime strolling around the edge of the enclosure, gazing at the stunning dragons.

"Really romantic date, Hagrid," said Charlie, shaking his head.

"What breeds you got here, Charlie?" said Hagrid, changing the subject.

"This is a Hungarian Horntail, a Common Welsh Green, a Swedish Short-Snout, and a Chinese Fireball," Charlie said proudly.

"Four. . ." said Hagrid, "so it's one fer each o' the champions, is it?"

"I literally cannot talk about it, Hagrid," said Charlie. " But we'll be on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the ready. I can tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. Her back end's as dangerous as her front, look."

Charlie pointed toward the long, bronze-coloured spikes protruding every few inches along the tail. They looked more intimidating in real life than in Charlie's book. Harry looked away. Charlie had pointed them out to him already.

Some of the keepers dashed up to the dragons now they were stunned and placed in their clutches, what looked to be one golden egg each. Hagrid let out a moan of longing, noticing the eggs for the first time.

"I've got them counted, Hagrid," Charlie said sternly.

Harry had had enough. Trusting to the fact that Hagrid wouldn't miss him, with the attractions of four dragons and Madame Maxime to occupy him, he turned silently and began to walk away, back to the castle, neatly avoiding headmaster Karkaroff on the way back.

Damn, he thought as he hurried back to the tower. This meant Diggory was the only one that wouldn't know. Which meant it would fall to Harry to tell him. He swore again, irritated at his inane sense of fairness and irritated that he cared and that Dumbledores compulsions stopped him from just looking after himself. He didn't need the extra attention that warning Diggory would get him.


	24. Chapter 24 before the task

Side note, I'm Auzzy so I'm using metric. I don't get imperial measurements, they don't make sense. Pounds, inches and feet? I don't even….

The common room was deserted when he got back, and by the smell of it, Hermione had not needed to use a dung bomb to clear it. He had no sooner sat down in an armchair and pulled the clock off from around his head when the fireplace flashed green for a moment. Sirius's head appeared.

"Sirius," Harry murmured, putting up a privacy spell just in case.

Sirius looked healthier now, tanner than last time Harry saw him. He'd filled out and looked like he'd managed a few good meals. His hair was cleaner and had been trimmed, no longer the shaggy mat it had been last time. He looked more like the man in his parent's wedding photos now. Harry bit back a grimace at the thought of his father.

"How are you? You look better," Harry said

"I'm doing okay. Better than last year, but how are you, Harry?"

"Been better," Harry said, then hesitated, what would Sirius tell Dumbledore? And how much could Harry afford Dumbledore to be told?

"You going to tell Dumbledore I talked to you?" He finally asked

"Nah," Sirius said to Harry's relief before he added, "he already knows. How do you think I got into the castle fireplace without the password. Not everyone can floo into Hogwarts, especially without a password."

Harry froze, "why did you go blabbing to him, Sirius? I asked you, not him."

"He's worried about you Harry," Sirius said as if it was the most obvious and logical thing in the world, "he knows you talk to me, so he's asked me to keep an eye on you for him. Make sure you're doing okay."

'Make sure I'm playing his game more like,' Harry thought cynically.

"He means well, Harry. He cares about you a great deal," Sirius chided gently, is if it were nothing, "you're being silly."

Harry felt like Sirius had just tossed a cup of icy water in his face. "Course," he said detachedly, "how silly me."

And Sirius beamed at him as if it meant the world to him that Harry had agreed with him.

Harry'd never been able to rely on adults before. He shouldn't have hoped that Sirius would be any different. Never hope. Hope gets you hurt, Harry thought remembering one of his main rules from the Dursley's.

Never hope for anything.

Harry had already broken that rule with Sirius once, when Sirius offered him a place to live, an escape from the Dursley's. Look where that had gotten him. He had kept making that mistake, in thinking he could actually rely on Sirius for guidance and advice. Now look how that had turned out.

Harry had sworn to himself; he wouldn't take unnecessary risks this time. And now here he was, taking that same risk with Bill and Charlie. Did he really want to continue making that same mistake?

He cursed himself for his weakness and infuriating inability to stand on his own without anybody. He scowled. He'd be better. He'd be stronger. He wouldn't be stupid enough to depend on anyone else again.

Sirius broke him from his angry internal rant by saying, "now what's going on?" and Harry had to stop himself scowling coldly at him.

He debated what to tell him. He couldn't say anything about Dumbledore or Gringotts and wasn't sure he wanted to bring up his father. He also wasn't sure he wanted Dumbledore knowing that he already knew about the dragons.

Instead, he settled on, "do you know any good wards or anything I can use to protect my belongings?"

It was an innocuous enough topic.

"Wards? What do you need wards for? You can trust your housemates Harry, they're Gryffindor's. They're your family. We never had problems with needing wards! Don't be so paranoid."

Harry bit back a snort and said, "I'm being hexed in the corridors."

"Work on your protago then. That will help. And don't go anywhere alone. Your housemates will stand up for you."

Harry bit back a snort, as Sirius continued, "go to McGonagall if they keep pestering you. She's fair. She's your Head of the House, she'll look out for you, Harry. Now listen, I don't have much time."

Harry frowned slightly and peered at Sirius, who looked concerned. Harry wasn't sure Sirius's concern was for Harry or himself. Harry thought that though Sirius looked better than he had last time, his eyes still had that deadened, haunted look Azkaban had given him.

"I haven't got long here... I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."

"What?" said Harry, his spirits sinking... Surely there could not be anything else coming. But knowing his luck, it wouldn't surprise him.

"Karkaroff," said Sirius. "Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

Of course, he knew what a Death Eater was. But maybe he should do some more research into the war, the trials, and who the Death Eaters were. He couldn't afford to be blindsided.

"The Durmstrang headmaster is a Death Eater?" He asked incredulously

"He was. I'd bet everything that's why Dumbledore wanted Moody at Hogwarts this year - to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff and put him into Azkaban in the first place."

"Karkaroff got released?" Harry said, still shocked, "why? Why him and not you?"

Sirius snorted bitterly, "He did a deal with the Ministry of Magic. He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then he named names... he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place... He's not very popular there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well."

"Okay," said Harry slowly. "But... are you saying Karkaroff put my name in the goblet? Because if he did, he's an outstanding actor. He was furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing. He and Madame Maxime were pretty much the only ones."

"We know he's a good actor," said Sirius, "because he convinced the Ministry of Magic to set him free, didn't he? Now, I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry..."

"- You and the rest of the world," cut in Harry bitterly.

"- and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm," Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, "but I don't think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely. Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he can't still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had."

"So. . . what are you saying?" said Harry slowly. "Karkaroff's trying to kill me? But... why?"

Sirius hesitated.

"I've heard some bizarre things," he said slowly. "The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn't they? Someone set off the Dark Mark... and then, did you hear about that Ministry of Magic Witch who's gone missing?"

"Bertha Jorkins?" asked Harry.

"Exactly... She disappeared in Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort was rumoured to be last... and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?"

"Yeah, but... would she have really walked straight into Voldemort?" Harry asked, trying to figure out why her name felt strongly familiar. It felt important.

"Listen. I knew Bertha Jorkins," said Sirius grimly. "She was at Hogwarts when I was; a few years above your dad and me. She was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It's not a good combination, Harry. I'd say she'd be very easy to lure into a trap."

"I know her name though, Jorkins... Jorkins," Harry murmured, trying to figure it you, "she's dead!" He said suddenly, "he killed her, that dream I had. He killed her! He and Wormtail are planning something. They have someone here. They need to get to me!" Harry said, remembering bits and pieces of his dream.

"So... Voldemort found out about the tournament... And is using it, to get to me. How though? And for what?" Harry murmured still thinking, "and is Karkaroff here on his orders, do you think?"

"I didn't know you remembered that much of it," Sirius said, "you'll have to tell Dumbledore!"

"I didn't remember; till now," Harry said, still frowning, "I'm assuming you'll be passing it on to him regardless," he said snidely, but it seemed to go right over Sirius's head.

"Course I will. He can't keep you safe if he doesn't know," said Sirius and Harry had to bite back a snort of derision and a few sharp words.

"Hmm," Sirius said slowly, pausing a moment to think, "I just don't know... Karkaroff doesn't strike me as the type who'd go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can't help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident."

"So it's someone else then..." Harry mused, with a frown trying to think of who else it could be. The only new people other than the Ministry people were the foreign students and school heads and Moody. Moody, who had been attacked before school started.

"Good plan really," said Harry bleakly. "They'll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff. They're the first task."

"Right - these dragons," said Sirius, babbling now. "Don't try a Stunning Spell. Dragons are too strong and powerful to be knocked out by a single Stunner-"

"Yeah, I know," said Harry.

"But you can do it alone," said Sirius. "There is a simple-"

But Harry held up a hand to silence him, his heart suddenly pounding as he heard footsteps coming down the spiral staircase behind him.

"Go!" he hissed at Sirius. "Go! Someone coming!"

There was a soft crackling noise in the fire, and Sirius vanished. Harry pulled the cloak over his head again making himself invisible. Ron came downstairs, looked around with a frown, then turned and went back upstairs.

Harry sat there for a long time. Was Ron worried? Was he having second thoughts?

Harry dismissed the thought and instead pondered over who could possibly be Voldemort's inside person. Really, it had always been the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who was up to no good. From history alone, it indicated that it should be Moody. But Moody was Dumbledores friend. Would Dumbledore not realise then if his friend was acting oddly? Was his friend acting strangely? Or, was Dumbledore in on it? But then Moody had been attacked over the summer. Maybe he was under the imperious? Or... an imposter? But the map never lied, and Moody had been on the map. Or maybe Crouch was in on it. Crouch was often with Moody in his office on the map, and that didn't make any sense at all...

What on earth was going on?

Harry didn't dismiss the idea that something was indeed going on, but with the first task rapidly approaching, he tabled it temporarily. He was more concerned with living through the first task than working out what Voldemort was doing.

Sirius probably wanted him to use the Conjunctivitis curse, Harry thought. It was a simple spell that could easily distract a dragon. Their eyes were the only vulnerable bit not covered in shield-like scales. But that would hurt them. It would really hurt them. No. Harry liked his plans better. Lots of fireproofing, asking nicely, summoning the egg if that didn't work, or using a switching spell, or if they all failed, outflying it. He felt relatively prepared for the task, but there was nothing sure about several tonnes of protective mother dragon.

But first, he had to warn Diggory. At least by warning Diggory himself, Diggory would ow him one. Maybe that would get Hufflepuff of his back if he could use his warning to prove he wasn't out for the spotlight.

Despite his usual low profile in the halls, Harry didn't don the cloak immediately after leaving breakfast on Monday. Instead, he rose when he saw Diggory leaving the table. By the time Harry got out into the entrance hall, Diggory was already at the top of the staircase, surrounded by a crowd of onlookers from all houses.

Harry sighed. He really didn't want to do this. He didn't want the attention, especially not from older students looking to hex him. He didn't want to talk to Diggory or help him at all, really. Diggory also thought he was a liar. Harry wasn't feeling particularly charitable to his fellow students in general, actually. But if it got out that he, Harry, knew and didn't warn Diggory, he'd be damned for not being the 'Nobel Fair Gryffindor.' And if he did warn him, he'd still be damned. Especially if a teacher found out, he'd cheated, or Diggory reacted badly and ratted him out. That's just how it worked.

Harry sighed, not really much of a choice either way.

He discreetly took out his wand and shot a severing charm at Diggory's bag. Books went everywhere, parchment, quills, and homework spilled out onto the floor. Several bottles of ink smashed over the lot and Harry didn't really feel at all sorry for the mess. He was relieved when Diggory nearly groaned and sent his friends ahead to class.

Harry slipped his wand back into his robes, waited until Diggory's friends had disappeared into their classroom, and hurried up the now empty corridor.

"Diggory," Harry called out quietly as he approached, not bothering to stick to the high formality's that most, outside of Slytherin, ignored while at school.

"Hi," said Cedric, picking up a copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration that was now splattered with ink. "My bag just split... brand-new and all..."

"Diggory," repeated Harry ignoring the irrelevant small talk, "the first task is dragons."

"What?" said Diggory blankly.

"Dragons," said Harry, speaking quickly, "they've got four. One for each of us, and we've got to steal an egg."

Diggory stared at him. Harry saw panic in his grey eyes.

"Are you sure?" Diggory said in a hushed voice.

"Of course I'm sure," Harry snapped.

"But how did you know?"

"Not relevant," said Harry snapped again, "the others know too. Maxime and Karkaroff both saw the dragons."

Diggory straightened up, his arms full of inky quills, parchment, and books, his ripped bag dangling off one shoulder. He stared at Harry, with a puzzled suspicious look in his eyes.

"Why are you telling me?" he asked.

"I get hexed enough as it is for being in this stupid game. I don't care about winning, but I don't want people to think it's my fault if you get hurt, if they find out I knew and didn't tell you. You're housemates hate me enough as is."

Diggory was still looking at him, puzzled.

Harry sighed. He'd lingered in the halls to long as it was. He wasn't interested in persuading Diggory or having any conversation with him at all, really. It wasn't his problem if Diggory was suspicious.

Diggory was still looking at him in a suspicious way when Harry turned to walk away, but Harry stopped when he heard a familiar clunking noise behind him. He sighed again, bristling, as Mad-Eye Moody emerged from a nearby classroom.

Great, thought Harry, just what I need.

"Come with me, Potter," he growled. "Diggory, off you go."

Harry stared apprehensively at Moody. Had he overheard them? Harry was relieved to be away from a suspicious Diggory, but not pleased to be around Moody. One, he was a teacher, he didn't fancy detention for breaking tournament rules and two, because Harry wasn't sure who he was and what he really wanted.

"Professor, I'm supposed to be in Herbology," he said.

"Never mind, Potter, my office,"

Harry followed him with extreme, but well hidden, reluctance. And had to force himself not to visibly tense up when Moody shut his office door behind them. Moody turned to look at Harry, his magical eye fixed upon him as well as the normal one.

"That was a very decent thing you just did, Potter," Moody said quietly.

Harry worked hard to keep his face blank; not having expected that response.

"Sit," said Moody, and Harry sat, looking around.

The office had changed from last time Harry had been in there. It was now filled with a number of exceptionally odd objects, some of which he had seen in the Room of Requirement when Harry had asked for a safe place.

On Moody's desk stood what looked like a large, cracked, glass Sneakoscope. Was it broken? Why? In the corner on a small table stood an object that looked something like a squiggly, golden television aerial. It was humming slightly. Harry frowned. Weren't they meant to hum that around lies?

What appeared to be a cracked mirror, hung opposite Harry on the wall, but it was not reflecting the room. Shadowy figures were moving around inside it; none of them clearly in focus.

"Like my Dark Detectors, do you Potter?" Moody asked, still watching Harry closely.

"What's that one called?" Harry asked, pointing at the squiggly golden aerial.

"Secrecy Sensor. Vibrates when it detects concealment and lies... no use here, of course, too much interference. Students in every direction lying about why they haven't done their homework. It's been humming ever since I got here. I had to disable my Sneakoscope too because it wouldn't stop whistling. It's extra-sensitive. Picks up stuff about a mile around. Of course, it could be picking up more than kid stuff," he added in a growl.

Or maybe it's picking up you, Harry thought suspiciously but didn't say anything, not meeting Moody's eyes. He'd have to look into dark detectors later too.

"And what's the mirror for?" He asked. He'd seen that in the Room of Requirement too.

"That's my Foe-Glass. See them out there, skulking around? I'm not really in trouble until I see the whites of their eyes. That's when I open my trunk!" He let out a short, harsh laugh, and pointed to the large trunk under the window.

It had seven keyholes in a row. Harry wondered what was in there, for one wild moment, he wondered if Moody had Crouch in there. So often had Crouch shown up in this very room, in that very spot, on the map. But Moody's next question interrupted him.

"So... found out about the dragons, have you?"

Harry said nothing and pretended to gape at Moody stupidly instead.

"It's all right," said Moody, sitting down and stretching out his wooden leg with a groan. "Cheating's a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and always has been."

"I didn't cheat," said Harry sharply. "I just found out."

Moody's gnarled face morphed into a grin, "wasn't accusing you, laddie." And Harry bristled at the familiarity, "I've been telling Dumbledore from the start, he can be as high-minded as he likes, but you can bet old Karkaroff and Maxime won't be. They'll have told their champions everything they can. They want to win. They want to beat Dumbledore. They'd like to prove he's only human."

Can't blame them, Harry thought savagely. He'd love to see the look on Dumbledore face too.

Moody gave another harsh laugh, and his magical eye swivelled around so fast it made Harry feel uncomfortable and dizzy on Moody's behalf.

"Sir?" He said after Moody had been quite a moment.

"So, you know about the dragons," Moody said again

Harry said nothing.

"So what are you going to do about it?" Moody demanded.

Which genuinely threw him... Why did Moody care? Was he here for Dumbledore or Voldemort... and did they want him alive or dead?

"Sir?" He asked

"I'm not going to tell you," said Moody gruffly. "I don't show favouritism. I'm just going to give you some good, general advice. And the first bit is. Play to your strengths."

"Sir..." He said, not sure what Moody was actually aiming for. What did he want?

"What are you good at, boy?" He asked slightly exasperated.

Harry bristled at the name, and hurriedly picked something innocuous, that couldn't be used against him.

"flying..." He said

"Good, play to your strengths. My second piece of general advice," Moody said loudly, interrupting him, "is to use a nice, simple spell that will enable you to get what you need."

Harry looked at him, blankly. What did he want and why was Moody helping him? Moody must have interpreted his expression as confusion and said, "Come on, boy..." whispered Moody. "Put them together... it's not that difficult..."

"You're telling me to summon my broom and outfly the dragon for the task?" Harry said deliberately not narrowing his eyes.

Whoever Moody was working for, (if it was indeed Moody) they wanted Harry alive. At least for this task; maybe, the whole tournament. If it was Dumbledore, that made sense. Dumbledore wasn't finished with his puppet. But if it was Voldemort, what did he want? What did he have planned? Harry wished he could pull out the map and check who he was actually talking to. But even if it just said Moody, that didn't tell him what was really going on.

"Thank you for your general advice, sir, but I really do have to get to Herbology, or I'll get detention," Harry said, not able to sit there any longer.

The moment he was out of the room, down the staircase and out of the castle, he cast a precautionary notice-me-not charm around himself, in case Moody's eyes could see through floors and walls, and pulled out the map.

Alister Moody and Bartimius Crouch's dots were both now standing stationary in Moody's room's. Where did Crouch come from?

Luna found Harry at lunch as he was about to enter the Great Hall.

"Well Met Luna," Harry said startled as she linked her arm thought his and lead him in the opposite direction.

"Well met Harry Potter," she said airily, "we're having lunch in the kitchens so we can talk. You have a few less Bumble-zingers today." She added, looking at the empty space around his left ear intently.

"Thanks, Luna," he said.

Remembering the contract suddenly, he asked, "Will I be talking to Luna, my fellow student or Luna, the reporter?"

She smiled, dreamily at him and simply said, "why can't it be both?"

Harry sighed but sat down at the back table in the kitchens and thanked Dobby for the tray of sandwiches he'd put down. Luna pulled out a notebook and a quill from her ponytail.

"What do you want to know, and how do you want this to work?" Harry asked cautiously.

"I'll interview you now, and then after the task. I will also be around tomorrow, watching things, and I'll take some photos" she said peering intently at the space above his right ear this time

Harry frowned, but said, "okay. Will I see your article before it comes out?"

"Maybe," she said, "I meant to find you over the weekend so we could have more time, but you were out," she said dreamily, and Harry froze. How did she know? Who would she tell? And what would she do with the information?

"but," she continued lightly, "tell me if there's something you don't want mentioned," as if it were nothing.

"Okay, just make sure you print the truth," Harry said after a moment, "I don't really care, as long as it's the truth," he said hoping against hope he would not regret it but felt he probably would.

She nodded, "tell me about how you got into the tournament? And is there anything you want to rebut about Ms Skeeters article?"

"Yes!" He said, "there is. All of it. I did not enter my name. I was really looking forward to a school year where I did not almost get killed." Harry started, and after a long very hesitant pause, started to explain about each attempt on his life, or to harm him while he was in school.

He didn't implicate Dumbledore in it, just the general plots, and the dangers that often the defence professors posed. Most of which had already circled the school in some form of roamer anyway. No harm in clearing it up, he thought. And if people were smart enough to realise that Dumbledore should have stepped in but didn't, well, that wasn't Harry's fault. After all, he was an ignorant and naive little Gryffindor.

Finally, he finished on, "I was really looking forward to a quiet year when I heard about the age line. It meant there was no way I would be dragged into the tournament. I thought it sounded mildly entertaining but foolishly dangerous kind of stupid. I didn't and don't want any part of it. I was appalled and dismayed at my name coming out."

"Why didn't you make an oath saying it was not you that entered?" She asked as if merely offering him tea.

"That's simple," Harry said, "I didn't know. I was raised ignorant."

She frowned, "so Ms Skeeter lied that you were pampered?" She asked, with what Harry thought was a worrying level of perception.

He considered, "I was raised muggle. Hagrid took me to get my things. My relatives did not want me to be magical, and Hagrid didn't give me the introduction pack. It's possible he didn't know, and I didn't know anything about the magical world at all until he showed up, so I didn't know to ask for it."

That would be innocuous enough to not raise too much wrath from Dumbledore and would keep Harry looking naive. Though anyone who read between the lines, mite figure it out too. That would hopefully get people to start questioning the old man's judgment.

"How odd. Who's your Guardian? Your magical one?" Luna asked still in her dreamy slightly unfocused voice.

Harry thought for a moment, considering what he didn't mind people knowing, "I didn't know such a thing existed until now. No-one here has been able to tell me."

It was not a lie, but not the whole truth. And if he said Dumbledore, Dumbledore would know he knew. But if people could work out Dumbledore had not been playing his part with Harry right, maybe it may get him some public heat and distract him from messing with Harry.

Luna looked at him a long moment then nodded and started scribbling on her piece of parchment frantically; occasionally asking him a followup question. Harry finished his lunch and went to class. Divination was filled with Trelawny predicting his fiery death, and Harry spent the lesson angrily contradicting every one of her predictions with better ones, with references to his star chart and textbooks. He may not be able to call her a total fraud, but he could at least rebut her with astrology. It ended up getting him good marks, and he left the class, still irritated but feeling slightly vindicated.

End note: Yes, some bits are taken from the book, no it was not a copy paste. It never is. I heavily tweaked of Sirius, so don't come bitching to me about it in the comments, got a problem with it, find something else to read.

on a happier note, those of you who have reviewed and enjoyed it, thank you. I'm very glad your enjoying it :)


	25. Chapter 25 Playing with Dragons

See bottom of the page for a brief trigger warning.

(No I don't care if you don't like the way I do my warnings, I'm not running a democracy)

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The night before the task, Harry was so terrified, he didn't feel anything at all. He tried to go for a run but just ended up in front of the dragons, hands tingling, legs shaking, a bit dizzy but other than that not feeling anything at all. It was an odd feeling. Disconcerting. Like being untethered from the earth; emotionally detached from everything.

He found he didn't care. He knew he needed sleep and he'd done all he could to prepare, but all he could think of was dragons.

He ended up taking out his broom and flying. The Thestrals joining him. But he still ended up at the dragons. So he decided to talk to the dragons again, instead.

The dragons were being moved from their clearing, and into pens outside a large arena, that Harry assumed would be where the task would be held. The dragons were clearly not at all happy with the move, and the handlers were running this way and that, frantically; trying to calm them down and put out small fires. Harry wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed that even if Charlie knew he was there, he was too busy to get away and talk to him.

Harry ended up under his Invisibility cloak, using Parseltongue trying to calm them down. He crouched invisibly on the back of a Thestral and spoke to them. He introduced himself and tried to explain what was going on. The Thestrals had followed him down. They seemed to be fond of him. He did like the odd creatures. He often said hello or brought them something when he was out in the forest. They did not seem at all bothered by the dragons and seemed perfectly happy to keep walking between the four dragons as Harry tried to talk to them. The Dragons would not be swayed though. They believed that the fake eggs were real.

(The eggs were spelled, he'd learn later. They'd used something to trick the dragons. They potioned them. That was what had riled them up. Charlie couldn't tell him because of the Geas.)

Eventually, Charlie figured out what was going on as the dragons were all acting oddly, looking into space, though no-one is there. Cocking their heads to the side as if listening, growling and hissing at each other in return.

Charlie found Harry, (or more to the point he finally noticed the Thestrals) at two in the morning. He'd thought it odd that the Thestral was walking back and forth close to the dragons. He dragged a numb Harry off to his tent to sleep.

Harry didn't really protest when Charlie led him into his tent and enlarged the bed to fit them both comfortably. Charlie's gentle hand on his back burned though, and he shifted away from it, his brain too foggy to think straight or make any decisions at all, let alone complex ones about his opinion on the touch. Charlie just hugged Harry briefly and wrapped him up warmly in blankets.

Harry looked at them as if he'd never seen them before. Harry was shivering. His teeth chattering, he frowned briefly, but just sat there. Charlie cast a strong warming charm over him and curled up next to him under his own blankets, tugging Harry sideways, so he ended up lying down before he put out the lights.

Harry just lay there stiff as a board, not feeling the warmth of the blankets or of Charlie, who pulled him closer and wrapped an arm around him protectively. He stared at Charlie's hand in the dark, that was running a scorching line of heat up and down his side, soothingly. Slowly, he defrosted. Slowly, he relaxed. He watched the hand still as Charlie fell asleep, still draped limply over his side. It was warm and maybe comfortable?

He was still a ball of distant and detached anxiety, but finally drifted off his dreams filled with hissing and fire. But he was, for once warm.

He woke still numb, to Firenze poking his head into the tent, "Come youngling. We shall check the herd's snares before you go to your next lesson."

Harry got up robotically and found that Dobby had put his bag next to Charlie's bed, with a fresh change of clothes. He got dressed mechanically and noticed dimly that Charlie was already gone. How did he manage that without waking him up? Harry was a very light sleeper.

There were Thestrals outside the tent. They nudged him with their bony faces nosing at his fingers hoping he would rub at their velvety (if slightly scared and tattered) ears. Harry just stared at them, not really seeing.

Firenze went up to Charlie, speaking to him, "Keep your people out of the deep forest, Fire-Hair." Charlie nodded at him, saying something back, but Harry's ears were not working. Charlie lifted a hand in greeting in Harry's direction but Harry just stared. Charlie's face shifted into a slight frown and Harry's gaze shifted once more to the dragons.

He jumped when Firenze put a hand on his shoulder and led him into the trees. He obeyed without protest; glad to be out of sight, safe in the trees.

Harry skipped breakfast. Not managing to even eat the toast Winky brought him, so she plied him with a bit of extra nutrient potion instead. The school was in a state of nervous anticipation, and while people had finally eased up on hexing him and quoting the article, they all seemed eager to see him fail. The Gryffindors seemed to be rooting for him out of principle. But the rest of the school seemed to be booing and hissing at him, and some had even gone as far as to say they'd have tissues ready for when he was picked up in pieces afterwards.

Harry just snorted at the idea of anyone picking up the broken pieces of him if it went wrong. When had anyone ever done that?

He did not remember History of Magic and before he knew it, Hermione was leading him into the Hall for lunch. Harry could not have said whether he had gone to Transfiguration at all.

He picked at his lunch; not eating any of it, but managed to subtly identify that Winky had added some more nutrient potion to his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Potter," a voice called irritatedly, "Potter!" He turned to find McGonagall behind him calling his name. He would have cursed himself for not paying attention to his surroundings, if he'd felt enough of anything to care.

"Ma'am," he said in a hollow, detached voice.

Her expression softened slightly, and he wondered why.

"Potter, the champions have to come down to the grounds now... You have to get ready for your first task," she said, moving as if to place a hand on his shoulder, but he stood up out of reach.

"right," he said hollowly.

"Good luck, Harry," Hermione whispered. "You'll be fine!"

He must have followed McGonagall out of the Hall, but he didn't remember it. He thought she may have been talking to him, but he didn't seem to hear her as she led him down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon.

She tried to put her hand on his shoulder again. Was she trying to comfort him? Why on earth would she do that? He stepped out of her reach. She was talking to him again, but it seemed to just buzz in his ears, as she led him around the edge of the forest, to the dragon arena.

Harry saw that a tent had been erected. Its entrance faced them, screening the dragons from view. She was calling his name again; looking faintly concerned. He turned to look at her. It was an odd expression on her face, her eyebrows were slanted down slightly, her forehead crinkling. She didn't normally look at him like that. He wondered what was wrong with her. He wondered briefly if he should ask, but decided it would be unwise. Adults didn't like you questioning them.

"You're to go in there with the other champions," she said, in a rather shaky sort of voice, "and wait for your turn, Potter. Mr Bagman is in there... He'll be telling you the, the procedure... Good luck."

"Thanks," he managed, and turned back to the tent, only to see Luna appear next to him. He blinked at her.

"Good Luck, Harry," she said, "how are you feeling?"

He blinked at her numbly, not quite computing what she'd asked. Luna nodded perceptively and headed inside.

Taking a moment, Harry pulled out a few fire-proofing potions from his bag and downed them. The now familiar icy feeling washed over him. He shivered slightly. He took another breath, tucked the empty vials back in his bag and considered activating the runes on his cloak and clothes. But decided against it. He didn't want them confiscated if they were noticed to be magical. He supposed technically they would probably consider it cheating.

He didn't care.

He didn't want to be BBQed. He fully expected that if something went wrong, the tournament judges would all just stand back and watch.

He stepped into the tent. Bagman and the three school head's were inside, along with Rita Skeeter and her photographer. Harry suddenly remembered he was called 'Bozo.'

Delacour was sitting in a corner on a stool, looking clammy and far less composed than usual. Krum just looked grumpier than normal, and Diggory was pacing but offered a smile when Harry entered. It was the first smile anyone had directed at him other than Hermione and Luna all day. He just looked at Diggory blankly. Why was he smiling at him? As far as Harry could remember, Diggory thought Harry, a liar about entering and was up to no good.

"Harry! Good-o!" said Bagman happily, looking around at them. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"

He looked somehow like an overblown cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced champions and proper officials. He was wearing his old, too small Wasp robes again.

"Well now! We're all here. Time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly, only to be cut off, by Dumbledore, "Miss Lovegood, you need to return to the stands now."

"I'm here for the Quibbler sir," she replied, looking around curiously, fiddling with the strap of her camera.

"Ah, but Ms Skeeter is here to cover the tournament. You're not needed, my dear." He said in that grandfatherly voice of his.

Harry watched wondering distantly if Luna would leave or stay.

"Ah, but she's not allowed to write about Harry. Harry has a contract with the Quibbler, only I can write about him, sir" Luna said, turning to Skeeter, "isn't that right, Ms Skeeter?"

Skeeter grimaced, and Harry saw something move across Dumbeldores face. He couldn't identify it, his brain moving too slowly. He felt his insides tense seemingly impossibly tighter.

"Harry, my boy, what have you done? We have a contract with Ms Skeeter," Dumbledore said, turning to Harry.

Harry was starting to feel a prickling tingling sensation in his fingertips again, dizzy. His heart seemed too big for his chest, beating painfully.

"You should not have signed anything without my permission, Harry-" Dumbledore continued.

"Mr Potter," Harry said softly.

"Pardon?" Dumbledore asked, confused.

"My name is Mr Potter, sir," Harry repeated.

"Now Harry, don't make a scene, my boy," Dumbledore dismissed, "Now, I'm just here to confiscate any magical items except for our champions wands."

They were all scanned, Diggory had a Gringotts key and Delacour, a hair comb, which she gave to Madame Maxime. Diggory called a house-elf in a pillowcase, with a crest Harry didn't know and give it to him. The strange elf popped away again, taking the key.

When they get to Harry, he handed Luna his bag, and let them scan his glasses. But when he went to put his own Gringotts key, and the Bezoar necklace in his bag, Dumbledore requested Harry hand the key over.

Harry frowned slightly but put it in his bag anyway. It was blood warded, no-one can get into, and it would certainly keep it safe from Dumbledore.

Dumbledore said, "surely you don't want to leave something so important in a mere school bag, Harry? Let me keep is safe for you, my boy."

Harry felt a tingle of magic along his skin, and it made his skin crawl. He was uncomfortably aware of everyone staring at him. He could hear the scratching of quills.

Dumbledore went on, "surely you trust me, my boy! I'm your guardian. It's my job to look after it for you. Something that important won't be safe in a mere bag."

Harry was startled that Dumbledore was willing to reveal his guardianship. He was also starting to feel irritation penetrate the fog of numbness. He pulled up the same confusion he had felt when Bill first mentioned magical guardians.

"What? No you're not. My muggle aunt is. You said that's why I have to live with her." Harry put as much confusion into his voice, hoping his supposed naivety may start to paint Dumbledore in less of an all-knowing brilliant light.

"Ah but I'm you magical guardian. Surely you haven't forgotten?" Dumbledore said, and Harry had to hand it to him, it was a good counter-play.

"What's a magical guardian, Professor Dumbledore sir? I've never heard of it before. Does that mean I don't have to live with the Dursley's any more? They'd be ever so pleased to be rid of me," Harry said, playing it up, only a little.

He wanted to go on, mention the tournament contract, but he didn't want to directly confront Dumbledore. The man was too powerful. It was better to be sneaky and subtle; to slowly paint him grey instead of light. Especially now that the man was looking flustered.

Before Dumbledore could reply, Dobby popped in, and Harry thanked him when he took his bag from Luna and popped away again.

Looking irritated at being derailed, Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, but Bagman cut him off again, ushering the headmasters, and headmistress out of the tent. Harry watched him go with detached relief.

"The audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag" - Bagman held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them - "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different - er - varieties, you see."

Harry glanced around. Diggory had nodded once, to show that he understood Bagman's words, and then started pacing around the tent again. He looked slightly green. Delacour and Krum hadn't reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might be sick if they opened their mouths. Harry imagined he'd probably feel like that if he could feel anything.

Rita started flitting around questioning the other champions, taking photos, and being a general nuisance. Luna, however, stayed in a corner, scribbling on a bit of parchment.

In no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent. Their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking... Harry felt as separate from the crowd as though they were a different species. And then - it seemed like about a second later to Harry - Bagman was opening the neck of the purple silk sack.

"Ladies first," he said, offering it to Delacour.

She hesitantly put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a Welsh Green, holding a number two in her paw. Harry watched Delacour's face carefully. She showed no sign of surprise, but just a determined resignation. He had been right; Madame Maxime had told her what was coming.

Krum was the same. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball, with a number three. He didn't even blink. He just put it on the table and sat back down, staring at the ground.

Diggory, put his hand into the bag and out came the Swedish Short-Snout, with a number one.

Harry didn't even blink in surprise at his luck of drawing the most dangerous of the dragons. But he peered curiously at the little dragon, when he put his hand into the bag and pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, with the number four. She stretched her wings as he looked down at her, and bared her minuscule fangs.

Rita flitted around directing Bozo to take photos again, and Harry didn't protest when Luna snapped one of him as well. Though, hers was not of him but of the little model dragon. He handed it over to her, and she beamed, stroking it's back and said, "I'll hang on to her for you."

"Well, there you go!" said Bagman grabbing their attention again. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons. Do you see? And I have to tell you something else too... ah, yes... your task is to collect the golden egg! Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Ms Skeeter, you'll want to go over to the judging box for a good spot, you too I guess Ms Lovegood, Ms Skeeter will escort you."

They left, taking Bozo with them.

"Mr Diggory, you're first. Just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Now... Harry... could I have a quick word? Outside?" Bagman said hurriedly.

Harry frowned at Bagman using his first name and responded cooly, reluctantly following him out of the tent. Bagman walked him a short distance away, into the trees, and then turned to him with a fatherly expression on his face. It immediately made Harry tense and bristle suspiciously.

"Feeling all right, Harry? Anything I can get you?" He asked patronisingly.

Harry frowned at him, "no thank you, sir" he said with curt politeness.

"Got a plan?" Bagman said lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Because I don't mind sharing a few pointers, if you'd like them, you know. I mean," Bagman continued, lowering his voice even further, "you're the underdog here, Harry... Anything I can do to help..."

"No," said Harry quickly, "no thank you sir."

"Nobody would know, Harry," said Bagman, winking at him.

"No, thank you, sir. I'm fine," said Harry, irritated now. He was already being accused of cheating, he didn't need Bagman blackmailing him with it later.

A whistle blew somewhere.

"Good lord, I've got to run!" said Bagman in alarm, and ran off.

Harry watched him go and walked back into the tent as Diggory left it, greener than ever.

Harry went back inside to Delacour and Krum. It was just the three of them now.

Seconds later, they heard the roar of the crowd, which meant Diggory had entered the enclosure and was now face-to-face with the living counterpart of his model.

Harry drifted over to the table in the corner of the tent, which had the purple bag on it, and the three discarded dragon models. Abandoned. Harry frowned at them. They were kind of cute.

"Pity your real-life counterpart are not as small and agreeable," he hissed under his breath to them in Parseltongue.

A roar.

A whistle blew.

Delacour left.

Harry was dimly aware of noise in the background.

Another whistle.

Krum slouched out, leaving Harry alone.

Harry looked at the little dragons instead and wished that he wasn't about to face their real-life counterpart. He felt sorry for them then, the little models crouching on the table, forgotten by their champions. Was he going to be abandoned too? Would the wizarding world abandon him like the other champions did the model dragons when Harry had done whatever it is they wanted of him?

Harry flinched when Krum's dragon let out a screech of pain, and he thought she was screaming something about eyes. He felt sick now and stood up.

His legs weren't working properly, and it took him two goes to make them hold him up. The floor tilted alarmingly, seeming to move in its own. He put a hand on the table to steady himself. He couldn't feel the tiny mushroom clouds of fire, that the tinny model Fireball was puffing onto his fingertips. He looked at them.

They were being abandoned.

He pocketed them.

He could feel them squirming in his pocket as he waited by the door. He tapped the runes in his cloak, and clothes, activating the protective magic. He couldn't feel the tingling of the magic. He hoped it worked. He hoped he didn't need it.

He exited the tent at the whistle.

He was aware in a detached way, of the noise the crowd was making, that Bagman was making. But he couldn't hear it. He couldn't make sense of it. It was just noise. He walked mechanically past the trees, through a gap in the enclosure fence.

Everything in front of him seemed like a highly coloured dream. Colours blurring together, not making any sense. Hundreds and hundreds of faces in the stands, stared down at him, blurring together into a sea of meaningless colour and noise.

There was a dragon in front of him. The Horntail. She was crouched over her eggs, her wings half-furled at the other end of the enclosure.

Her eyes were very yellow, standing out against her dark scales. She was snarling; he noted, "stay away, stay away" and "leave us alone."

She was thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground around her, like an agitated cat. She was terrified for her eggs, and it was coming out in fury, he realised

He felt for her then. Really he did. He took a step back, slowly, so not to startle her, and remembering his plan, lifted his wand to his throat briefly.

"Sonorus Homodeus" he murmured, so the crowd could hear him, but his voice would not disturb the dragon.

"I swear, on my life and magic," Harry said, speaking the carefully chosen words, "that I did not enter my name into the goblet of fire. I did not ask anyone else to enter it for me and had no knowledge of how it happened. I furthermore swear that had I known at the time that an oath would have removed me from this tournament when my name came out of the cup, that I would have done so. I had no idea about contracts or oaths. I was raised muggle, but I didn't get the introduction like the muggleborns. I didn't know that there was a way out, or I would have taken it. I participate only under protest because it will kill me if I don't. I am no TriWizard Champion. I have no interest or intention of winning. The real champions are Delacour, Diggory and Krum. This tournament is, as far as I am concerned between them. I'm just an extra, being dragged along for the ride, while trying not to get murdered.

So as I say so mote it be.."

He took another breath, and lit his wand, shooting red sparks into the air, to prove what he said was true as he still had his magic.

Satisfied, they would now know he was not a liar, he murmured, "Quietus,"

He turned back to the Horntail. She was watching him, her eyes narrowed. He walked slowly towards her and pointed his wand at his throat again, "Sonorus Draconis."

He didn't particularly care if they heard him, but he needed her to be able to hear him without him getting too close. He knew she had excellent ears but wasn't sure if that would be enough over the racket that the crowd was making.

"My lady?" He asked cautiously, moving slowly closer to her.

She hissed, and he stopped, "what do you want speaker? Stay away!"

"There is an imposter in your nest!" He said, pointing.

She let out a snarl, and her head swung around to look at her eggs. But she turned back to him and hissed, "Lies! Thief!"

"They put a gold egg in your nest. They want me to steal it!" Harry hissed back, "I don't want to! But I'll die if I don't."

"Why should I value your life over one of mine?" She hissed back, and she had a point, Harry, though detachedly.

"It's not a real one. There's a gold one. They've charmed it so that you think it's real. It's not. It's the one on top. They fool you for their games." He said, stepping closer again and pointing. She hissed, and he was glad he was not within reach of her claws. He had forgotten about her tail though, and he leapt back when it came swinging towards him.

It caught him, but only on the ankle. He fell, scrambling back. Bugger, he thought, as his ankle burned. He could feel the poison from her spines already.

"Accio Golden Egg," he tried, holding out his wand.

The egg came hurtling towards him, but the Horntail whipped around and caught it in her jaws. She spat it out immediately; however, hissing furiously, and opened her jaws. Flames engulfed the egg.

Harry's shoulders slumped but other than that, he just watched.

The flames went out eventually, and the egg still sat there, shining, seeming even more gold than it was before.

"Told you so," Harry muttered.

Her head swivelled towards him again, and he scrambled to his feet, "I don't suppose I can have it now?" He asked.

"No, it's shiny. It's mine!" She hissed back, picking it up in her teeth and placing it back in her nest. Harry sighed. Of course she would be a hoarding dragon too.

"You really want my gold egg?" She asked, peering at him, and he took a step back.

"Yes," Harry said, "well no, actually. I don't, but they do," he jerked a thumb in the judge's direction, "they want me to get it for them, for this stupid game."

"What?" She hissed, confused.

"Entertainment." He said simply wondering if game was not a word that translated into Parseltongue, "I have to do three tasks for them, or I die. One of them is to get the egg off you, and it will tell me what I have to do for them next. I didn't want any of this any more than you do. But I'll die if I don't, and it will probably hurt. I don't want to hurt anymore." He finished quietly, "so yes, I guess I need your egg, but I don't want it, per se."

"They make a hatchling dance for them or die?" She spat out, furious again.

"Yes," he said bluntly not really caring if she was mad at them. He would have been mad too, if he'd not been so numb. But she seemed to have enough anger at the situation for the both of them.

She looped her tail around Harry carefully, pulling him into the shelter of her wing and roared at the judges. It was a deafening noise, and a tongue of fire shot out from her jaws and all the way over the arena to the judges. The handlers quickly put up flame repellent shields, but when Harry peeked up over her wing joint, he noticed happily that the top of Dumbledore's hat was smouldering. He grinned, "thanks."

"Fine," she said, turning to Harry, who was now sitting gingerly on her tail between the spins, "but what will you give me in return?" She asked

"What do you want?" He asked

"Well, you don't really have much do you?" She said, looking at him, "I suppose there are some nice spiders in that forest. I want one. A big one."

He blinked at her a moment, then figured that if he was a dragon that big, a spider like Aragog would probably be a good meal.

"Hagrid won't like that, and I'm not sure how I'll manage it. They tried to eat me last time, but I'll do my best."

"They sent you in there?" She asked.

"Not that time, they did when I was 11, but that time I was trying to rescue a friend and ended up in there."

"They don't seem to like their young much, these wizards," she said, looking thoroughly puzzled.

"I know, right?" Harry agreed conversationally, less numb and terrified than before, now he was sitting with her in her nest talking as opposed to fighting her.

She made a deep humming rumble in her chest, making smoke tendrils coil out her nostrils before saying, "Well then, you come back tonight, and try your hand at getting me my spider. If only you could fly, it would make your hunt, so much easier. If you can get a big one, that would be lovely. But a few little ones would also work I suppose." She reasoned.

"I can do that, I have a broom. I can fly," Harry said after thinking on it for a moment.

"We have a bargain then," she said, reaching over and touching her nose to his and huffed softly. His face tingled and he coughed as felt her magic slide over him.

"You will keep your word," she said, and he felt that the magic of their agreement settle bindingly. But it wasn't uncomfortable this time.

"I will do my best," he said.

She nodded and said, "get off."

He carefully climbed off her tail and onto the ground again. She tossed the golden egg so that it rolled out a few feet from him. He walked over and picked it up.

"Thanks," he said, before turning to look at her again, curiosity starting to penetrate through the fog, "Um one other question though, can I ask you a few questions later? Are you guys here long?"

She looked at him, curling protectively around her eggs again, "one more night and yes youngling, you can," she left out a rumble that made him jump before he realised she was laughing at him.

He grinned, "can I touch you?" He asked, hopefully.

She blinked at him and stared as if he were a particularly odd insect, then extended her head with an air of someone humouring a very small child's rather odd request. She let him stroke the smooth scales of her nose. They were warm, hard and smooth like glass. Close up, he could see that she wasn't just black, but her scales had a slightly metallic iridescent sheen to them.

"You're lovely," he hissed, "thank you. For everything, I'll see you tonight."

"Sunset," she preened under his praise.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

END NOTES

TRIGGER WARNING:

Disassociation - Harry is experiencing such intense emotions around the task that he disassociates and stops feeling his emotions.


	26. Chapter 26 Here be Dragons

See bottom for somewhat opinionated rants and end notes :)

Enjoy!

..0.

Harry turned and limped back across the enclosure towards the door. He was numbly aware of the throbbing in his ankle, and of noise in the crowd and of Bagman, but he couldn't make any sense of it.

And quite frankly he did not care enough to bother.

He was distantly aware of keepers rushing forward to the Horntail to prepare to move her when he paused.

He turned back to her, "I think they want to move you back to the other area. Those ones," he pointed to the keepers, "really like you, and just want to take care of you. It's probably easier for everyone if you just go along with them. They mean you well, especially the fire-haired one," he finished recalling their name for Charlie.

She swivelled around to look at him, making the keepers jump and take out their wands, but she just let out another huff and curled up, calmer and more docile than Harry had ever seen her. He grinned.

He watched for a moment, as they activated some runes on the floor around her, and all of them vanished. He wondered if it had been an advanced switching spell to take them back to the clearing?

He kept walking over to the entrance to the enclosure, Professor McGonagall, Professor Moody, and Hagrid were hurrying to meet him from the edge of another tent with a mediwitch symbol on it.

He expected to be relieved to have survived the task, he thought, as he limped towards the teachers. But all he felt was a dull weariness that penetrated his exhaustion as they approached him.

"That was... a different approach, Potter!" cried Professor McGonagall looked relieved as he got to the door of the Medi-tent. Harry frowned at her, wondering if she'd gotten into Mrs Norrises catnip. It was a bit out of character for her to be so pleased to see him, he thought. Her hand shook as she pointed at his ankle. "You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score, she's had to mop up Diggory already..."

"Yeh did it, Harry!" said Hagrid hoarsely. "Yeh did it! An' agains' the Horntail an' all, an' yeh know Charlie said that was the wors'-"

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said, cutting him off, so he wouldn't reveal that he'd shown Harry the dragons beforehand.

Professor Moody looked irritated, but pleased; his magical eye was dancing in its socket, "Good on you for surviving Potter, could have done a bit more magic for it though," he growled, "won't get many points for that."

Harry held back a sigh and wondered what Moody's game was. Did he enter Harry? Would he not be disappointed, Harry didn't end up dead? And if he didn't want Harry dead, what did he want? Surely no-one would care he didn't use magic to do the task.

"Right then, Potter, the first aid tent, please..." said Professor McGonagall.

Harry called Dobby and stepped into the tent. Dobby potted in with his bag, and Harry put his necklaces back on, then took out a vial of antivenin he'd prepared earlier and downed it. He then, ignoring the occupied mediwitch in the next cubical over with Diggory, pulled out a pot of disinfectant salve.

Sitting down on an unoccupied bed, he directed a stream of water from his wand to wash the wounds before he used the disinfectant on them. It hurt but almost immediately started to feel better. He then pulled out a specially prepared ointment for the horntail venom. He was very pleased he'd been prepared.

The pot was snatched out of his hand; however, before he could put it on, he looked up irritably.

"What are you doing?" Madam Pomfrey demanded.

"Salve for the horntail poison. I've taken an antidote, I was just going to patch up my ankle now." Harry said flatly.

She made a humph, sound and waved her wand casting diagnostic spells on his ankle.

"Was it a general or a specific antidote" she demanded frowning at the pot of healing ointment.

"Specific," he said, reluctant to admit to being prepared.

She handed him back his pot of ointment and demanded, "how on earth did you find out about them beforehand?"

"It was pretty bloody obvious when they keep dragons in the forest a few days before the task," he said, avoiding the question, but not lying.

Pomfrey looked appalled, "what on earth were you doing in the forest!?"

"I help Hagrid. It's also nice to fly over, it's only being in it unaccompanied, that is forbidden."

Which was also true, he'd been taking trips around the school towers and over to the forest on his broom for years now.

She let out a huffing noise and poked his angle with her wand. He felt it heal up, though it still ached and was rather red. She put a thick layer of his ointment on it, and then pulled out a bandage that she dipped in what smelt like Dittany and Essence of Murtlap. He'd brewed a similar one before.

After spelling the bandages on, she said, "Now, just sit quietly for a minute, let that settle, and don't move it while the magic sets. Then you can go and get your score." She said before bustling back over to Diggory.

Harry sighed, he didn't really care what his scores were. He really wanted to curl up in bed for a nap, or find a nice tree in a patch of sun if there was any and just not think for a bit, Maybe escape in a book to somewhere else for a bit. Or maybe just sleep for a week.

He got to his feet, wanting to leave and do exactly that, but before he'd reached the opening of the tent, two people had come darting inside. Hermione followed closely by Ron. He held back a groan. While he was pleased to see Hermione, he really just wanted some peace, and Ron would not bring that. He watched Ron wearily.

"Harry, well done!" Hermione said squeakily. There were fingernail marks on her face where she had been clutching it in fear.

"You were Brilliant! You really were!"

But Harry was still watching Ron, who was very white and staring at Harry as though he were a ghost.

"Harry," he said, very seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet - I - I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

Harry just stared. Hermione stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other. "What are you doing here?" Harry asked, finally.

Ron opened his mouth uncertainly, then closed it again, then, "I'm your friend," Ron stuttered.

"By your own words last week you're not," Harry reminded hollowly, "friends don't physically shove each other to the ground when they get mad. That's assault."

"Come off it mate," Ron shot back, "it was just a little push... lighten up," Ron said, seemingly oblivious to the fact that that one action had damned him in Harry's eyes. That one action that had been too much like his relatives.

"Anyway," Ron continued batting a hand as if it were all nothing, "that dragon, huh? It was huge!"

When Harry just stared at him with cool disbelief, Ron continued, "you could have at least used your broom mate. Moody told us you were going to outfly it!" Ron said, "would have been a bit more Gryffindor mate, what did you do? Ask it nicely?"

"What do you want?" Harry asked bluntly, momentarily shelving the fact that Moody had been talking about him.

"Well, it's just not very Gryffindor, taking the cowards way out." Ron said like it were obvious, "Not very brave and daring to just 'ask it nicely'. That was beside the point of that task! This is meant to be a competition of magical brilliance and daring. It would have been so cool if you could have outflown it, that's all. It was just a bit cowardly, not too." Ron went on, and Harry started to feel anger melting though the fog of nothingness.

"Leave," Harry said in a cold voice. He did not want to blow up. He was too tired to waste the energy on Ron.

"What? but, mate, I apologised! you know how I am, you can't just-"

"No," Harry spat, "no, I will not see this farce as an apology for your despicable behaviour. Nor will I accept it as justification of your poor treatment of me. I will not be forgiving you or forgetting. So no. Get out." He said flatly.

When Ron looked about to argue Harry spat the words back spitefully in his once friends face, "as you said, we are done, Mr Weasley."

"You said yourself; we are not friends, that I was a selfish prat who did this all for attention. You shoved me to the ground and said we were done, as you'd had enough of me. Please leave. Hermione, I'll catch up with you later."

Hermione looked at him worriedly and nodded, seeming to understand. She pulled Ron out of the tent, casting a worried look back at Harry before Ron could start shouting at him again.

Harry sighed and then put the egg and the dragon models in his bag. They wriggled but curled up among the textbooks. Standing up carefully, he tested his weight on his ankle and was pleasantly surprised to find it no longer hurt. He walked out of the tent and back into the enclosure.

He wondered how the other champions had gotten past their dragons. He'd have to ask Charlie. He hoped the other dragons were okay, especially the one that had been screaming. Harry turned to the judges. Dumbledore's hat had stopped smouldering though the tip was blackened and charred. He tried not to smile spitefully at it.

Madame Maxime raised her wand in the air. A silver ribbon shot out and twisted itself into a large number one. Harry blinked, he supposed Ron was right. His lack of wandwork in the task was being counted against him. Mr Crouch, Karkaroff and Dumbledore all gave him Zero.

Harry held back a shrug and an eye roll. He survived and was still alive and in one piece. That's all he cared about. But Mr Bagman's score made him stop and stare.

Ludo Bagman, a ten.

"Ten?" Muttered Harry in disbelief, he got hurt, and he didn't actually use his wand in the task. Sure he used it for the oath, and to try summoning the egg, but the oath was not part of the task, and the summoning didn't work. In the end, he just asked her. That was so inconsistent.

Harry shrugged mentally, he didn't care. He had a whole three months before the next task. He turned and had intended to go back towards the forest to check on the other dragons, but was interrupted by Charlie.

"Well done, Harry!" Charlie said, pulling Harry into a quick hug. Harry stood there mechanically, and by the time he remembered to he was meant to hug back, Charlie was already pulling away. Harry felt strangely bereft and surprisingly, a little teary. He shoved the feeling away ruthlessly.

Charlie's face was ashen, and while he looked pleased to see Harry, he was obviously upset.

"Is everything okay? What's wrong? Are the dragons okay?" Harry asked.

"Listen," Charlie said, "I've got to run, I've got to go and send Mum an owl, I swore I'd tell her what happened - and I have to get back to the dragons. Krum cursed his dragon, and she trampled some of her eggs! She's only got 3 of the 15 left," He said, sounding furious, "we'll talk about it later. Oh yeah - and they told me to tell you you've got to hang around for a few more minutes... Bagman wants a word, back in the champions' tent."

Harry groaned and watched as Charlie ran off toward the clearing before he turned and reentered the tent.

Delacour, Diggory and Krum were all together. One side of Diggory's face and torso was covered in a thick orange paste that was mending his burn. Harry thought he could probably have figured out which burn past it was, but was too tired to care that much. Diggory grinned at Harry when he saw him, and Harry wondered again why he was suddenly trying to be friendly.

The others also seemed to suddenly be more friendly. He held back a frown of puzzlement, as Diggory asked, "what did you do to it?"

"Dragons speak Parseltongue too. They're related to snakes. So I explained it to her, and asked nicely," Harry said bluntly, "it was the most logical solution. They're not stupid mindless beasts, you know."

"Not very showy of you Harry," Diggory teased, going to thump Harry playfully on the shoulder.

Harry stepped smoothly out of the way before Diggory could get close enough to and said coldly, "I'm not here to put on a show, Diggory, just to survive." He put a slight emphasis on Diggory's last name. Harry had not given him the liberty of such familiarity and did not appreciate it. He'd been doing that a lot over the last few weeks since he'd realised. It was really starting to irritate him.

They were cut off by Bagman bounding back into the tent, "Well done all of you!"

He looked pleased, as though he personally had just got past a dragon.

"Now, just a few quick words. You've got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half-past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth - but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you're all holding, you will see that they open... see the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg. It will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then! Harry, I want a word"

"Now Harry, not very brave of you, sensible, but this is a game Harry, a show! You'll have to do better than that if you don't want to lose," he said once the others had left the tent.

"Why would I care if I lose sir?" Harry asked bluntly, "I wanted no part of this, I'm only participating to stop the contract someone tied me up in, from killing me."

"Now, Harry!" Bagman scolded, as if Harry was a naughty child, "you'll have to try your best! You're embarrassing Hogwarts! You're embarrassing the Ministry, by not trying harder."

"Well sir," he said, noticing that Luna had slipped back into the room and was scribbling, "the way I see it, Hogwarts and the Ministry should be embarrassed. They let an underaged contestant be entered and forced to participate right under their noses. That's a breach of their duty of care. I would be embarrassed if I was them." Harry clenched his jaw and tried not to glare too openly. He was mad, but he did not want to make an enemy. He couldn't afford to while he was vulnerable with all Dumbledore's magic on him.

Harry clenched his jaw and wondered why Bagman cared. Though he had clearly been betting on the world cup. Maybe he'd placed a bet on Harry and just didn't want to lose.

But then the whole tournament was an embarrassment. He pushed all the growing irritation aside and just stared as Bagman went on about how Harry was Gryffindor, like his parents and he was meant to be brave and daring and the perfect candidate to put on a good show of 'magical daring' which is what that task had been all about, that Harry had failed to show.

He went on and on, ignoring Harry's pointed, "if I failed, why did you give me a such a high score?"

But Bagman just breezed over it as if he hadn't heard and went on about how the rumour of him out-flying the dragon would have been a much better show; far more Gryffindor and daring!

In the end, Harry just walked off, crossing the grounds towards the forest. Not interested in Bagman's ranting, not interested in hearing how much of a failure and a disappointment he was.

Luna followed him. She held out the little model Horntail. It nuzzled his hand when he picked it up and let it perch on his shoulder.

"Well done Harry," Luna said, "would you like to do the post-task interview now?"

He blinked, and said, "I guess," now he was out, now it was over, he found he didn't remember much of it at all. It seemed to be one big haze in his mind.

She cast a warming charm on the ground and sat. Harry copied her.

"Was she nice?" Luna asked.

Harry blinked, and she added, "the dragon? You talked to her, didn't you."

"Yes, she was very protective of her young," Harry said after a moment, "but nice enough once she knew I didn't want her eggs. She was pretty funny, actually. They were horrible to the dragons, the Ministry. The keepers were put in a hard position having to do what the Ministry wanted and still be able to look after the dragons. The dragons should not be under so much stress while nesting. The keepers didn't have a choice but to bring them, though. It's horrible, and now eggs are destroyed, and we have lost all but 3 out of 15 Fireball eggs because Krum cursed his dragon. We couldn't afford to lose them. That's on the Ministry. Of both countries. The keepers tried to insist on fake eggs, but the Ministry didn't think it would be exciting enough."

Luna looked sad for a moment, and then asked, "why did you talk to her instead of doing something more magical? People are saying you took the cowards way out?"

"Why shouldn't it?" Harry asked, "It was safest and most sensible. I'm not interested in fame or glory. Someone wants me dead with this thing. All I want is to survive. It may be more Slytherin than Gryffindor, but I don't really care. I'm not going to play their game and put on a show. I just need to make sure I don't end up dead."

"So you asked it nicely," she said, "very sensible, I would have done the same."

"Yes. I had plenty of other plans if it didn't work, but why not take the simple solution first? Any anyway, Parseltongue is a magical language, so it's not as if it was a totally muggle solution."

"And your oath?" She asked

"To prove I didn't do it. I did it so I can confirm once and for all that I didn't do this and don't want it. I'm sick of people hexing me in the corridors in retribution for idiocy that's not my fault."

Luna hummed, "can I quote your oath?"

"Please do," Harry said earnestly, "I would appreciate it."

"So what did the dragon and you talk about?"

Harry blinked and told her what he could remember. That prompted a long and detailed discussion about dragons in which, after swearing her to secrecy in regards to his prior knowledge, he told her all about the dragons in the forest and what he'd experienced.

"Some interesting information came to light," Luna said after she had finished scribbling down notes.

Harry stiffened slightly, but forced himself to relax, "yes, I imagine it did."

"There's more to it than that. The Blibbering-Humdingers said so," she said serenely.

He froze, then said, "yes, there was. How much do you know? And what are you going to do with the information."

"What our paper does; show the truth," she said vaguely, looking at his right ear, "Your wrackspurts are all in a tizzy. They needn't be so scared, you know."

Harry filed that bit of information on Luna and wrackspurts away for later and said slightly defensively, "if too much gets out too soon, it will bring a lot of danger my way."

"Yes it will, I won't mention what they whispered then, just what he said today. It will lay a nice foundation for later." She said vaguely, and Harry knew she was referring to Dumbledore and possibly Bagman too...

However, it left Harry only somewhat reassured.

Harry wasn't sure what to do with himself after Luna had left to write up her articles. He could only imagine all the attention he'd attract if he went into the castle now. He couldn't stomach the idea. He didn't want to be confronted by people judging him for how he did the task. So he went into the forest, intent on keeping his promise to the Horntail.

Harry used his broom to find the spiders. He remembered roughly where they were. But it was easier to find their webs from the air. The forest was dark that far in, with the dense canopy and the sticky webs blocking the dimming light.

The deeper in he went towards Aragog's lair, the bigger the spiders got, and the more numerous and he dove down under the canopy. It was harder to fly there with the webs and branches so close together.

Harry hovered on his broom, not too far from the centre of Aragog's lair and waited. He couldn't wear his cloak, it would get caught in a web, and if he triggered a web, they'd know he was there. There were too many of them for him to fight, but he hoped, with his still weak disillusionment charm, he could sneak up on one.

He watched the spiders for a while, looking for a larger one, that wasn't bigger than him, that might satisfy a dragon. He wondered how he would get one. If they were anything like dragons, he wouldn't be able to stun it. He couldn't use his bow as he wasn't good enough yet with moving targets. Eventually, he figured a piercing hex into the belly or through an eye would probably work.

A plan made, Harry carefully poked at a strand of web causing it to vibrate. There was a series of clicking noises, and Harry flew back away from the nest as he heard something large moving along the web. He picked another section to draw it further away, and carefully, drew the spider away from the nest. When the webbing opened up a bit, he poked the web harder and waited below, his wand raised.

The spider was bigger than he expected, about his size. Maybe a bit bigger if he was honest. But thankfully much smaller than Aragog was. It was hissing and clicking, and its shiny black eyes glittered menacingly.

Harry shot a piercing hex at its belly. It bounced, causing Harry to have to duck out of the way as it ricocheted and the spider screeched. Harry frowned and took aim again, aiming for an eye this time. He got it on his second try, and the spider fell with a loud crash from its web through the trees.

Hurrying now, Harry flew down, weary of all noise coming from the nest. The other spiders would be coming to investigate. With several overpowered feather-light charms, Harry managed to float the spider through the trees and further away from the nest.

It was a challenging job, and Harry was pretty sure that when it was all done, he would probably be sick. He'd never killed anything before, other than catching small things with snares. This was a little horrifying, and he was a bit disgusted with himself.

But a deal was a deal.

He was nearly caught by other spiders a number of times. The weight of the dead spider, was considerable, even with the charms and slowed him down, dragging on his broom.

He eventually reached the dragon clearing and set the spider down. The keepers were still running around, restraining dragons. The Chinese Fireball was responsible for the racket that was nearly deafening Harry. The Fireball was shrieking in pain between long keening wails of distress, grieving her lost baby's as she huddled around the remains of her nest, curling protectively around the surviving 3 eggs.

The keepers were frantically trying to subdue her so they could treat her eyes, which Harry could see where swollen shut and had gone a horrible crusty puss yellow colour. He winced and looked around for Charlie. Charlie was in a heated discussion with the boss, gesturing angrily towards the Fireball. Harry went over, levitating his spider behind him. They must have had a silencing ward up. Harry couldn't hear them. But he watched as the boss gestured angrily back towards the arena, away from the dragons and Charlie stalked off furiously.

Harry waited at the tree line, not sure what to do. The boss caught sight of him and grinned before he noticed the spider.

"what's that?" He asked, his accent thick.

"I made a bargain with the Horntail. I'd bring her a spider if she gave me the egg." He said, hesitant around a man he didn't know, "I keep my promises."

"Oh," he said, mildly surprised, "right then," he held out a hand, "I'm the Captain."

Harry hesitantly shook his hand and gestured to the Horntail.

The Captain snorted, "you dragon types! Always more interested in them than in people, just like Charlie boy. Off you go then" The Captain said, walking off.

Harry cautiously crossed over to the edge of the Horntails enclosure, mindful to stay out of the way of the handlers, feeling out of place, exposed in the middle of the clearing without his cloak. The Horntail while agitated, was clearly the quietest of the lot, and her handlers were not running around frantically but were helping the Fireball's team instead.

"Great mother, I have your spider," Harry called out in Parseltongue, as he approached.

She turned to look at him and bared her teeth. Harry froze, then realised it may be a smile. He levitated the spider over, sweating slightly from maintaining the charm so long on such a heavy spider.

The spider was gone in a few sickening crunches, and Harry felt the magic binding him to their bargain dissolve.

"Our bargain has been fulfilled young one," she said, licking her chops.

"what's it like flying?" Harry asked suddenly, moving over to sit on the pen's fence.

"It is freedom," she said simply, "at home, I can fly whenever I want. Here I am chained down. I hate it."

"I hate it too," He looked at her wings, wistfully, "I wish I were a dragon."

She laughed, an odd hissing sound, making small tongues of fire slipped out of her mouth.

"I wish I could go flying with you," Harry told her wistfully, "I wish I could fly all the time; on my own. I bet that would be wonderful," he said his voice full of longing.

"Come back when my eggs have hatched, young one, we can go flying then. I will teach you and my young to fly properly."

"What's it like back home?" Harry asked, "do you like it?"

"Yes." She said shortly, before continuing, "land and sky for miles, and less human wizards to get in the way. We like it there, as a whole. But it would be better if they asked us, we understand some human tongues, instead of chaining us and stunning us when they need something."

She hissed as the Captain approached, "stay away from my eggs!"

She turned to Harry and ordered, "you tell the well-meaning lead moron."

Harry snickered and looked over at the Captain before translated the conversation he'd had with the Horntail who's name was Night-Sky-Scales. The Captain looked at her for a long moment before nodding to her.

"See if you can talk some sense into the Fireball, will you then kid?' The Captain said, "we don't have any Parselmouths on staff. It's hard enough to get one to travel to Europe what with the prejudices and all, let alone to live and work there." He scowled.

Harry looked at the man cautiously but nodded, "what do you want to tell her?"

"Just that we need to treat her eyes. We can't use a counter-spell, so we need to put ointment on them. She keeps thrashing so much we can't hold her down and hit her with a stunner at the same time. She's pushing against the wards too hard as it is."

The Captain followed Harry over to the Fireball's pen. He could feel them all watching him; some dubiously, some curiously. He felt like a zoo exhibit and wished Charlie were there. The Fireball's head immediately snapped towards him, her tongue flicking out, tasting the air.

"I mean no harm," he said to her.

She didn't say anything but continued her long high pitched keening wails.

"What's she saying?" the Captain asked.

"She's not. You're hearing what I'm hearing right now," Harry said, "she's not speaking, she's mourning."

He took a step closer to her and said, "great mother, they are worried for you, the well-meaning morons, they want to help your eyes." He tried again, using the Hortail's name for the keepers.

She hissed at him, "stay back, stay away, get back child slayer!"

"It wasn't me!" Harry called, "I mean you and your eggs no harm. I am truly sorry for your terrible loss!"

"Are you really? What do you care of hatchlings?" She hissed.

"I care because all life is sacred. Children should be protected. They should always come first," Harry shot back fiercely, "what they have done to you, to your children, is a travesty. It's sacrilege."

She let out a wail again and breathed fire over her remaining eggs, coiling tighter around them, letting out a moan of pain, "leave us alone!"

"Please let me heal your eyes," Harry pleaded, "we can ease some of your pain by healing your eyes. Please, let me help you."

She hissed at him, "how do I know you don't want my eggs!" And he could see the fire welling in her jaws. He took a step back hurriedly.

"I don't! I can't look after one baby dragon let alone more of them! What would I do with them? You're their mum! I don't want to raise children!" Harry blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Get away from my eggs," she snarled, and he sidestepped, crossing around the other side of her, so her body was between him and her eggs. That seemed to appease her.

"Captain," Harry murmured in English now, "what do I need to do to her eyes?"

The Captain held up a large bottle with green gel in it, "we need to wash her eyes, then get this on them. It needs to completely cover her eyes. It shouldn't hurt, but her vision will be blurry for a bit, before it dries and falls off by itself."

Harry took the bottle and took another step closer to her. He was now in range of her fire. He took another careful step, "great mother, this will help your eyes," he hissed gently, holding it up for her to inspect.

She leaned over and sniffed at it. And sneezed.

Harry jumped back, wincing as the heat of her flame made his skin feel tight under his hood, but his robes protected him. When it was gone, he grinned, inspecting his robes, which looked no worse for wear. They had worked.

"Let me put it on your eyes great mother." He asked again, "first I need to wash them though," he said, transfiguring a pebble into a cloth and wet it with his wand.

Slowly she lowered her head enough for him to reach it and let him gently wash the crusty goop from her eyes. Then, with a hissed warning, he poured the ointment on her eyes. He could practically feel the eyes of the other keepers boring into his back, and he had to stop himself from curling in on himself under their scrutiny.

He jumped when the Fireball, let out a sigh of relief and tilted her head, so he had better access to the other eye. Now he was up close he could see the broken mess at her side of what was left of the trampled eggs. His heart hurt. He let out a small, sad little noise and rested a hand on her cheek, rubbing at the warm scales under her eyes.

"I'm so sorry about your children," he murmured, resting his head on her much larger cheekbone, "I'm so sorry you were all dragged into this and that they suffered for it."

"Me too," she said before she withdrew her head and curled up, now silent around her remaining eggs. Apparently done with them all.

Harry then, at the request of the Captain, went around to each of the other dragons to talk to them, and explain what would be happening and how they would be getting home in the morning. By the time he was finished, he was exhausted, and Charlie still wasn't there. He didn't like being around so many strange adults.

.

Right, Notes

What I'm trying to say with the Ron bit is that while some may think it nothing (kids just letting off steam, and having a bit of a push around) having someone so angry they resort to being physical, even if it's 'just a little push' - It. Is. Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying. Especially if you trusted them.

If it's a shove now when will it be a fist? It may seem minor, but it's still assault. You should never ever touch someone in anger, and never without permission. Ever. It's assault and thats not okay. It may not be as extreme as being beaten or other extreme ways people can be touched with out permission and assaulted. But any sort of touch in angry or without permission (even if its just a hug) is not at all okay and is not acceptable (in my book anyway)

Anyhow thats just my opinion, and thats the end of my rant.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, next week's will be a doozy!


	27. Chapter 27 Charlie

Notes:

There are a few Australian phrases used below. It was recently pointed out that they may not be used as commonly in the rest of the world, and I should provide a translation for those not familiar with them.

Gas bagging - talking, chatting, gossiping, yabbering.

Whoop-whoop - the middle of nowhere, a fair out of town. Fun fact, its also known as 'cut lunch territory', and 'beyond the black stump; (don't ask me why, I don't get that one either)

See end for more notes:

The captain insisted Harry joined them around their campfire for dinner. And not knowing how to politely turn it down, Harry spent the whole time listening to their admittedly, fascinating stories. If he wasn't so exhausted and done with people, and desperate for some quiet, some alone time, he probably would have enjoyed it.

Harry kept his emotions ruthlessly under control and staying out of reach of people, not letting anyone touch him. He listened attentively to their stories soaking up as much knowledge as they offered, but longed for a reason to leave, to just be on his own, or to check on Charlie.

But by the time Charlie stalked back into the clearing, Harry was about ready to vibrate out of his skin with the tension of being around so many strangers for so long. He was starting to feel the stress of everything that had happened today. His mind was starting to de-frost from the fog of detached numbness. And all he could feel, as Charlie crossed back into the clearing was the tension in Charlie. The anger and the sorrow permeating Charlie's magic was making Harry's head spin. He stood up shakily as Charlie got to the captain, but before he could do something, Charlie spat out, "the arena has been dismantled. All our things have been shrunk and boxed."

Harry stared. He'd never seen Charlie talk so coldly, so furiously.

"Sit down, Charlie boy, eat some food. It will all seem better in the morning," the captain started, but Charlie cut him off suddenly, shouting at him in Romanian.

Harry couldn't understand a word of it, but he could feel the anger pouring off Charlie. He was gesturing to the dragons and in the vague direction of the castle. Harry got the gist and shrank back, despite himself.

Charlie was upset about the crushed eggs and wanted to do something about it. The captain wouldn't let him. Harry was torn between the desire to hide in the trees away from the anger, to hide behind the Horntails wing again (that seemed a pretty solid option), to run and never come back and to step in and stop Charlie before it ended in a duel where he'd get killed.

But the captain was yelling now too. Harry couldn't take it. He leapt up and grabbed Charlie's hand. He was scared the captain was about to go for his wand. Harry used all his weight to get Charlie moving, desperate to get them out. He dragged Charlie back into the trees, casting a frightened look back at the camp, at the captain.

Once they were out of the clearing, Charlie didn't resist and followed Harry silently as he broke into a run. Harry led them noiselessly through the trees along one of his favourite running paths. As exhausted as Harry was, as much as he wanted to just go, and be alone. He could not leave Charlie like that. So he ran, and eventually, Harry could feel the turmoil that Charlie was in; the sorrow. Now the anger seemed to have faded, just like Harry had intended.

He couldn't not say anything, "Charlie?" He asked hesitantly, reaching out a hand when they came to a stop somewhere behind the Whomping Willow.

Charlie just looked at him then, looking sad, and angry and exhausted and defeated. And Harry was reminded suddenly how young Charlie was. He was only 20. But he had that look in his eye, that Harry saw whenever he looked in the mirror, of someone who'd seen too much and had the weight of the world on their shoulder. An old soul.

"Charlie," Harry said again, hesitantly reaching a hand out and placing it gently on Charlie's shoulder.

Charlie just stared at him, not really seeing. He was so tired. It'd been a really long week preparing for the task and moving the dragons over. Between the dragons and the task, no-one had had much sleep. Charlie felt really bad for the dragons and the Fireball specifically. He was so spitting mad at Krum for cursing the dragon and at the ministry for putting them all in that position.

But now all that was left was sorrow.

Charlie could feel himself falling apart, and Bill wasn't there. His mirror, to call his brother, was back in his tent, and he didn't want to see the captain at that point.

Charlie sighed. He was on his own in England again, feeling like everything he left behind was back at the forefront, and everything sucked again. And those poor baby dragons!

Before he realised it, Charlie was on his knees, crying. Harry was hesitantly sitting next to him, a hand on his shoulder. It was not as good as his brother's hugs, but Harry seemed to comfort him, as best he could, reluctantly taking one hand in his. Charlie grip's it like a lifeline. Sobbing.

"Those innocent baby's Harry. They were just baby's. And no-one is going to do anything, because people here don't care about anything but themselves. It's their way or not at all," Charlie bit out sobbing pressing, his face into his hands, one of which was still tightly gripping Harry's.

Slowly his tears stopped, and he scrubbed at his eyes with his free hand after he'd eventually pulled himself back together.

Harry leant against Charlie, shivering suddenly, as he tried to comfort him and simultaneously hold himself together. Charlie's magic was swirling around them wildly. It was so strong, chipping away at all of Harry's shields. All the stress of the last week was overflowing, and bursting out from the little box he buried it in. He wanted to cry too.

Harry swallowed and pulled Charlie to his feet. They had to get out of there. He led Charlie, back to the clearing and into his tent. He cast a fearful glare at the captain as they passed, but the captain just nodded at him. Harry flinched in surprise but was too tired to try and decipher the look. Instead, he just deposited Charlie on the bed, wrapped the blanket around him and put the kettle on.

Harry was numbly aware of Charlie picking something up, and starting to speak quietly, probably the communication mirror. Harry could hear Bill's voice softly in the background. He'd have felt curious ordinarily, but he was hanging by a thread, so he wasn't.

Harry made a cup of calming camomile tea and pressed it into Charlie's hands, dimly aware of Bill greeting him and Charlie telling him something along the lines of he's welcome to stay. But Harry just curled up on the hard wooden chair at the table and sipped his tea. He focussed only on the hot cup in his hands and anything but the sight of the distraught Fireball, the furious horntail, or the dead spider.

Harry tried to hold himself together, to pack everything back up so he could put himself together enough to go back to the tower now that Charlie was okay again... Just the idea of going back was making his stomach turn. He couldn't seem to make himself move.

The spider... He'd murdered a spider. Hagrid would be furious when he found out, Aragog would eat him if he was ever caught. He'd be called a kinslayer.

The terror at having to face the dragons, the horror at what people were making him do, were making the dragons do, the sight of all those wizards stunning the dragons, chaining them down, the crushed eggs his heart was starting to break in two-

Harry jumped a mile and fell out of his chair when Charlie put a hand on his shoulder. He scrambled back, not quite sure where he was suddenly. He scurried back into the corner, breathing hard. His heart was pounding in his chest as if his ribcage was suddenly too small, and he couldn't breathe. His vision was spotty, and where was he? Where was the next blow coming from?

Harry flinched at the contact when Charlie put his hand on his shoulder again, and Harry tried in vain to push everything back. Charlie was crouching in front of him, his eyes wide, worry on his face. Why was Charlie worried?

"Harry?" Charlie said softly, "are you okay?"

Are you okay? The words echoed in Harry's mind, and he shoved his fist into his mouth and bit down hard to stop any noise escaping. Don't make any sound.

"It's alright, Harry, just let go. Let someone else hold you up for a bit. It's okay, Harry, I got you. It's okay to let go. You're safe here, I promise," Charlie murmured reaching out slowly and pulling Harry to his chest. Harry tipped forward still crouched in a ball. He panicked at the overwhelming contact when Charlie pulled him into his lap.

He panicked. But Charlie just held him tightly, securely. "Easy, easy, I've got you." He murmured in Harry's ear, "easy Harry. I've got you. You're okay. It's okay."

But it wasn't okay, and all the memories were twisting in his head, and even when he went to sleep, even if he didn't see them, he'd see something else that would leave him waking up in a hot sweat, panic flooding through his veins instead of blood.

"It's okay, Harry, it's going to be okay," Charlie murmured holding him tighter. Charlie was warm. His warmth seeped into Harry's skin. It was hot, it almost burned, it itched. Harry's skin was too small. He' was not used to this. It was too much.

He sobbed. He sobbed because it was too much and too hard, and it was never going to end. He sobbed in fury at the injustice of it all, at constantly having to fight the world that continually punished him for existing. He was so tired of fighting all the time. He didn't know how he'd manage to keep going and make it through the term, let alone the whole year.

Charlie just picked him up and sat down on the bed, as opposed to the floor. He wrapped a blanket around them both and just held Harry tight. Harry'd never had that before. He'd always had to look after himself and Charlie was rocking slightly, murmuring something in Romanian in his ear.

It was so soothing.

He was so warm and gentle, and it felt like heaven. Harry could have melted. Charlie's hugs were so much different from Hermione's. Charlie was bigger, and Harry felt like he was safe, and like everything would be okay when Charlie hugged. He never wanted it to end. He wanted to crawl inside Charlie's breastbone and live there.

He wondered distantly if Charlie learnt that from Bill. Bill's hugs were like this too.

"Will they do that to me?" Harry asked softly awhile later, his eyes still damp. He was tired now, warm and comfortable for what felt like the first time in weeks, still curled up in Charlie's lap, his head under Charlie's chin.

"Do what?" Charlie asked curiously, content to just sit there in the blankets.

"Stun me and chain me up. Like they did the dragons. When they think I'm too much to handle? Will they just stun me? When they get sick of me?" Harry said, and there was something haunting about his voice that made Charlie shiver.

Charlie wasn't sure who they were, but either way, it wasn't good, "no, Harry. I won't let them. I promise, and neither will Bill. While we're here, you're safe, promise. I can't make everything better, Harry, but I can promise to have your back, okay? To stick by you."

And Harry, despite himself, believed him. He nodded, his throat tight, and pressed his face back into the crook of Charlie's neck, and hugged him wrapping his arms around Charlie's chest and holding on tight.

Charlie wrapped Harry more securely in his arms and talked while rocking slightly as Harry slowly relaxed, his tears slowing to a stop. Charlie talked about how he liked dragons better than people, except Bill. He loved Bill. Charlie liked the twins too and his friend Tonks, the Metamorph. Charlie talked about how he was open with those that he liked, (which was not many, but I like you, your okay,) but as an introvert, he didn't really like people and didn't like being touched by those he didn't know or like. Charlie got being weird. It was fine to be cold and detached against the world to protect yourself, but don't forget to give yourself a break. Charlie talked about how he didn't always trust. How he understood what it was like to have to stand alone. It was okay to lean on others sometimes though; those you trust.

"It's okay to lean on others, Harry. It doesn't make you weak. This month has been really hard, hasn't it? It's okay. Sometimes strength means letting yourself feel. Because sometimes feeling is the hardest thing of all."

They fell asleep like that, curled up with plenty of blankets.

Charlie was woken very early by something, or someone knocking on the wards of his tent. He blinked but froze at the warm weight on his chest. Harry.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and the night before came back to him. He ran a hand over Harry's messy hair. Harry looked so small and frail like that, but more relaxed than Charlie had ever seen him. Charlie reached out with his magic to the wards. It was the Captain.

He winced, not wanting to disturb Harry, and went to slip out of bed, but Harry just tightened his arms around him like a barnacle and didn't let go. Charlie let out a soft laugh and flicked his wand to wrap Harry in a silencing charm before pulling the blankets up a bit higher around him. He then flicked his wand again at the tent flap, opening it. The captain stepped in, and immediately caught sight of Charlie and the top of Harry's head.

He blinked, then asked, "Is that...?"

"Yep," Charlie said, with a slightly defensive glare, but not bothering to lie.

The captain raised his hands in a gesture of peace and asked, "I meant to ask did you tell him? About dragons being the first task."

"I did not say a word," Charlie said honestly. He hadn't, he had written it.

"Good," the captain said, deciding not to question it, "I think I scared him yesterday. When we were yellin' at each other." he said, scratching the back of his head, "weird he is. Will stroll up to dragons for a chat, but people make him twitchy as hell that one."

"Don't you judge him," Charlie said firmly, tightening a protective arm around the still sleeping Harry. Harry mumbled something into Charlie's chest and clung onto him tighter. Charlie glared up at the captain.

The captain put his hands up in surrender, "wow, Charlie boy, I ain't meaning anything by it, just an observation. That's all. I didn't mean to scare him."

Charlie sighed and made a dismissive gesture, "'t's fine. Sorry for losing it yesterday, Boss," Charlie murmured, heat rising to his cheeks.

"Don't worry about it, Charlie, boy, I understand. Really, I do. We're just in a tight spot here. I wish it was have been different." The captain said.

Charlie nodded, and scrubbed at his eyes with a free hand, "what do you need?" shifting slightly, careful not to wake Harry, who was plastered on top of him. The poor boy hadn't slept properly, by the looks of it, in months.

"We have to be gone by noon. The dragons are too unsettled after yesterday. They want to go home, best to get out now. I've managed to weasel out portkeys for the dragons. If we dose them with more sleeping potions, and crate them, with their eggs, and have their handlers sitting on top of the crates, we can all go back via portkey, so we just need to pack up camp." The captain explained.

"Right, can do boss, what time do you want us up?" He asked, checking his watch, and wincing, it was 4am.

"0700 Charlie boy," the captain said

"Why the hell are you waking me now then?" Charlie said irritably with a yawn.

"End of my shift on watch wanted to check we were good before everyone was up and about." The captain said with an easy smile.

Charlie sighed, but smiled back, "yeah we're good, I'm still upset about the fireball, and this whole stupid thing, but so are you so... again sorry I lost it."

"Already forgotten. You have some nice swearwords though Charlie boy, Impressive that was. I didn't know half of them. Who'd a thought, a polite, dragon-loving introvert like our Charlie-boy would have such a filthy mouth" The Captain teased with a grin before leaving Charlie to go back to sleep.

Harry came too slowly. He was warm and cozy and content. His mind wasn't clouded by the panic of half-remembered dreams; instead, he felt content, safe and for the first time, could probably go back to sleep again. He lay there for a moment, listening to a steady rhythmic sound in his ears. There was breeze nearby, it was nice.

His pillow was exceptionally warm, he nuzzled into it, clutching at the white fabric... it was freckly... He frowned at it and poked it gently with a fingertip.

It grunted.

He poked it again curiously, it moved again, and grunted as a hand batted his finger away, "stop pokin', go back t' sleep," croaked a sleepy voice somewhere above him.

"Your not my pillow," Harry blurted our stupidly, his brain-mouth filter not awake.

Charlie snorted sleepily at him, smiling softly. Harry blinked at him owlishly, as an arm snaked around Harry's waist and hugged him close.

"No, not quite. Happy to stand in for you, though. Anytime. Just for you, though." Charlie said, before considering it, "and Bill. I like Bill too. He's on the exception list. Anyone else can go without though," he replied fondly at Harry.

"The exception list?" He asked yawning.

Charlie blinked and yawned too, "I don't really like people," he said, and Harry remembered distantly the conversation they had the night before.

"but there are some exceptions to that rule." Harry finished, "people you don't dislike, like Bill," Harry said, "and the twins sometimes? Oh and your Tonks friend?"

"The twins in small doses, yes. Mostly it's just Bill who I never don't want to be around, and Tonks, who is a close second" Charlie mumbled. And Harry felt a wave of relief that someone else felt the same way about people.

He hummed tiredly.

"And you." Charlie added, "I'm coming to like you. You're not too bad," he finished with a cheeky grin.

A smile grew on Harry's face, and he blinked sleepily and yawned again, "I like you too. You're a good friend" Harry murmured, putting his head back down on Charlie's chest.

He should probably get up and go for a run, or at least check the time, or figure out how he felt after having a meltdown in front of Charlie last night. He felt he would probably be embarrassed. But he was warm and sleepy and comfortable instead. Sleep was pulling at him, and Charlie was warm. He snuggled in, pulling the blanket tighter around them instead, hugging Charlie closer like a particularly solid, warm pillow.

"Mmmm," he hummed, "'S comfy. You're warm," he mumbled, half asleep again.

Charlie chuckled and mumbled, "mm 't's too early Kiddo, go back to sleep." Harry smiled at the that and snuggled a bit closer still and closed his eyes again. He'd never been called that before, he thought sleepily. It was nice.

"You gotta wake up now kiddo," Charlie murmured sometime later, pulling Harry, reluctantly, from what felt like, possibly one of the best, and deepest sleep of his life.

"naaaw...don' wanna" Harry mumbled, pulling the blankets up higher over his head and snuggling down into the cocoon of warmth, tightening his arms around Charlie. He was not at all awake, or he would not have been nearly so unguarded.

Charlie snorted. Harry reminded him a little bit of a cat, reluctant to leave his nap in the sun. He wrapped an arm around Harry in a brief hug and said, "well, I have to get up now. We're going back home today, and I can't do that with you on top of me."

Harry could hear the laughter in Charlie's voice and blinked again, sitting up suddenly as awareness flooding him. He almost felt embarrassed. He'd had a meltdown in front of Charlie. He'd crawled into his bed and clung to him like a weak child. He almost wanted to run and hide. The closeness was frightening, the simple trust and comfortableness he felt terrified him.

He almost hated how safe and comfortable he felt with Charlie. He almost disliked the fact he wanted to hug Charlie tight and not let go. But Charlie's soothing words from the night before echoed in his mind again, 'its okay to lean on others.' It was okay.

Besides he didn't actually want to be embarrassed and awkward about it. It was the best sleep he'd had in... Well, since he'd been here last. And, he was warm and snuggly and felt to content to be upset, besides, Charlie didn't seem to mind. Harry snuggled closer instead.

Charlie seemed to catch onto his momentary turmoil; however brief it had been, (he was a ninja like that) and said, "none of that now, I can feel all your conflict. It's way too early."

Harry nodded yawning. He was starting to enjoying that odd warm tingly feeling that hugs filled him with.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. I have been known to call Bill over the mirror at 3 in the morning, upset about something, or crawl into his bed when we're in the same county and I'm feeling miserable. That's okay, Harry. It's okay to lean on others."

Harry nodded uncertainly, "yeah, I'm too grateful for a good night sleep honestly to be able to be properly embarrassed about," he said after considering it, "do I have to get up?" He added, looking at Charlie pleadingly.

Charlie snorted and smiling fondly, "'fraid so. If I have to, you have to."

Harry sighed and got up, pulling his robes back on over the clothes he slept in.

"There's a small shower in there," Charlie said, pointing to a door in the tent wall.

"I'll shower back up at the castle. What time is it?" Harry said, fishing out his socks and casting a cleaning charm on them.

"7, we need to be out of here by lunchtime, and there's still loads to do," Charlie said, as he went to the trunk at the end of the bed and pulled out his leathers and a fresh change of clothes.

"I should head back up to the school then, I haven't been back since before the task," Harry said, feeling reluctant to go back and face the words of people in the castle.

Charlie sat down on the bed next to Harry, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

"You did good. Whatever they say, whatever score they gave you, you were outstanding." Charlie said, and Harry sank into it, relishing in the contact now that he had given himself permission, "and you didn't hurt my dragons!" Charlie added, making Harry laugh.

"Oh! The robes worked Charlie! They worked!" Harry exclaimed suddenly, as Charlie got up and crossed over to the bathroom.

"What?"

"Yesterday. I almost got caught by the Fireball. The warded robes we made worked," Harry said, crossing to sit by the bathroom door so he could tell Charlie what had happened, while he was in the shower.

"I'm so glad they worked, and you didn't get burnt," Charlie said, "what happened?"

Harry told him

"well, I'm glad you managed to get the Fireball to take that ointment," Charlie called through the crack in the door, "it's a huge relief! She'll be in a much better mood today, hopefully. And those shirts are great! I'm a bit jealous."

The water shutoff and Charlie stepped out fully dressed a moment later.

"It's a pity we don't have long. We'll have to go back to sending messages via the boxes, but we can talk about working something out for the shirts. Maybe find a way to power them without blood so you can sell them to the reserve," Charlie said, crossing to the kitchen. They discussed it over breakfast.

"Charlie," Harry said sometime later.

Harry had put off going back to the castle again. Instead, they were coaxing the dragons into taking sleeping potions for the trip home. Or more to the point, Harry was coaxing them, to take their nests into the crates and let Charlie give them potions.

"Yeah?" Charlie asked, glancing at Harry.

"What are the rules?"

"Huh?" Charlie asked

"What are the rules, for hugging, and touch and stuff. I'm not used to this," Harry said stiltedly, "I don't normally get touched at all let alone hugged."

Charlies face fell and did something complicated before he pulled Harry into another tight hug as if Harry's admission physically hurt him.

"There aren't really any rules. As long as the other person doesn't mind, hug away, as much or as little as you want. Some people are more touchy-feely than others. Some with everyone, some only with those they know. Bill has, on multiple occasions, likened me to an octopus or a barnacle. But I only with those I aptly really like."

"The exception list?" Harry asked.

"Yup," Charlie said, tapping Harry's nose, making him go cross-eyed.

Charlie laughed, and Harry pushed him back playfully. Charlie grabbed him in another hug, and they almost fell over, laughing.

"Do people mind, though? You and Bill are really close, but some don't touch."

"It's a personal preference thing," Charlie explained, "but if you're asking if people think it weird? Sometimes; especially the more tactile you are. Someone actually thought Bill and I were dating once," Charlie said, screwing his face up in disgust, "But generally I don't really care. I value having people I like and can touch too much to care about the opinions of people I don't know or don't like."

Harry frowned and said something else to the Welsh Green they were dealing with. She hissed something back before he handing her the sleeping potion. She drained it, and let him take the empty flagon sized potion vial from her jaws before her eyes slid closed and she curled up around her eggs safely in the dragon-sized travel crate.

"Why is touch so important to you, Charlie?" Harry then asked carefully after they had sealed up the crate, ready to let the others to later attach a Portkey to it.

Charlie thought about it a minute, then said, "it feels nice. It's that warm and fuzzy feeling that says, I like this person, care about them, and I trust them. With a touch, I can express all that without actually having to use any words."

"I'm Ace," Charlie continued slowly after thinking for another moment, "asexual," he clarified at Harry's confused look, "I don't feel sexual attraction, and I'm not interested in sex. Actually I never really grew out of that whole, sex is ew phase," he wrinkled his nose again in disgust, making Harry laugh.

"So as long as touch doesn't mean, sex. I think touch is pretty important. And not even in a romantic sense. I'm not interested in a romantic relationship at the moment. I'm way too busy with my dragons! Don't tell mum though" he said, looking serious, "she never leaves me alone about finding a bird and settling down to give her grandkids." He made the disgusted face again.

Harry bumped his shoulder against Charlie's, in a friendly manner and nodded. Charlie smiled at him and went on, "I don't have a lot of intimate connections with people. I'm an introvert. I prefer animals, and I live and work in the middle of whoop whoop. So touch, to me, is an important part of connecting to those I do actually like being around and it's an important part of conveying that I care for and trust those people." Charlie said

Harry stared at him for a long moment after all that, his mouth gaping, "so it's normal? I'm not a freak, for feeling like that?"

"Wait, what?" Charlie said.

Harry bit his lip then let out in a rush, "Am I a freak for only wanting touch some times with some people like, like you and Bill, but if it's anyone else it makes me super uncomfortable and I want a bath." Harry said earnestly, still looking confused. "Even Hagrid and Hermione are a bit hit and miss. I thought I hated touch, but now I think I might kind like it? Now I'm getting used to it. I kind of crave it? I think it's weird." Harry said both honestly confused and awkwardly mortified all at the same time. "I like your hugs, you and Bill give good hugs. Sometimes I think I don't want to let go." He scuffed his toe in the dirt, not looking up.

Charlie pulled him into yet another hug, and didn't let go this time, "Sure it is," he said, "its called having boundaries. And that's okay. You're not a freak. Never a freak, Harry. It's normal and understandable and totally okay. You can have as many hugs as you want. I love hugs. They're one of my favourite things in the world after Dragons. It's called skin hunger or being touch starved. It's okay. I promise that it's okay, Harry. You're not alone. Hug and touch whoever you want Harry. You can hug me as much as you like and I can tell you Bill won't mind either. He likes hugs too" the older boy reassured.

Harry paused for another long moment.

"So, is it normal to think sex is ew?" Harry whispered blushing scarlet, but looking just as grossed out by the thought of it, "because it is," he said seriously as he wriggled out from Charlie's arms. He hopped up to sit on the railing of the Fireballs now empty pen.

"People look at each other with this funny face," he went on, still looking disgusted, "and I catch them with their tongues down their throat. I don't get it! Its just ick! Boys talk about sex a lot, and how hot girls are, though sometimes boys too. I don't get it!" Harry went on, definitely looking disgusted now.

"How is swapping bodily fluids anything but disgusting? How is putting your body parts into someone else's not gross? It's just gross Charlie. Is that okay? Is that normal?" Harry asked worry in his voice, looking up at Charlie earnestly, very concerned.

"Yes. That's normal and okay too. And as to why people do swap bits and fluids, you're asking the wrong person. I don't get it either." Charlie said hopping up onto the railing next to him and putting an arm around Harry again, "But whether it's that your ace as well, or maybe just not there yet, that's okay. You don't have to like it, or feel attracted to people that way."

"If I hug people though, will they think I want the sex thing though?" Harry asked, crinkling his nose at the thought, much like Charlie had and leaned happily into Charlie's side, soaking up his warmth.

"Maybe? Sometimes? If you're worried, say so. Tell them you don't want the sex thing or that you're not interested and you just mean the hug as a friend. That's what I do. You're a bit young to have to worry about it yet, though. I think? I'm not too sure about that sort of thing."

Harry nodded into his shoulder but jumped when a loud voice interrupted them, "Oi you two, stop gas-baggin' and get back to work. We gotta be gone in an hour and still have to crate two dragons. They moved the schedule up." The captain called walking over to them. Harry flinched back into Charlie at the man's approach. The captain was a lot bigger than him, and he'd been really loud the night before.

"You," he said, pointing to Harry, who flinched and crunched further back into Charlie as he continued, "come see me when you're sick of this place, you're hired."

Harry blinked, "what?" He cracked out, letting go of his tight hold on Charlie's shirt in his surprise.

Charlie laughed at his dumbfounded expression and said, "Good choice, captain. This is that friend of Bill's who worked on that fireproof shirt. It worked."

"Sneaky little thing aren't you?" The captain said, looking at Harry appraisingly, "Double hired! Clever too. In that case, you write to Charlie-boy here. He'll pass it to me, and we'll talk about you making some of those fireproof clothes for us, okay?" The captain said, holding out his hand to Harry.

Harry looked at it a moment but straightened his spine and shook it firmly, "yes sir."

"Good to be doing business with you then kid. You survive this bat trap first okay? And Weasley, get onto the next dragon. Oh and kid?" he said, turning back to Harry in afterthought, "didn't mean to scare you last night." The captain said before stalking away.

"He's odd," Harry said quietly watching him go, feeling slightly stunned.

"Yeah, he's alright though," Charlie said, resting a comforting arm around Harry's shoulders, "he's big and loud, but he's an okay bloke.

Harry nodded, "thought he was going to hex you last night," he said not totally convinced but rested his head briefly on Charlie's shoulder.

"Probably. I deserved it, though. He wouldn't have hurt me."

Harry nodded slowly, "I'd better get up to school. It's nearly breakfast time, and I should make sure Hermione isn't worrying about me too much. Do you want me to talk to the last two dragons first?"

"Nah we'll be right. You said they could understand us. I'll just ask them nicely. You should get back up to the castle," Charlie said.

Harry just hugged Charlie hard, "I'm glad you were here. Thanks for the advice."

"Any time, Harry. Stay in touch, don't be a stranger, and look after yourself. It's okay to be yourself Kiddo, even if it's a bit different from everyone else."

Harry nodded into his chest, then let go and hurried up to the castle.

Notes:

Okay just incase your wondering, there is nothing inappropriate between Charlie and Harry.

(Or Bill and Harry, or Charlie and Bill, just in case you're wondering)

(Also Charlie was talking to Bill via mirror, they often do this, we'll talk about it later)

There may be some kind of pairing later on, but not in this book (and I don't write slash)


	28. Chapter 28 Un-housed

The trigger warnings are at the bottom of the page for anyone who wants to check them.

(Any dislike over the way I use my trigger warnings, won't change anything so suck it up. Its not rocket science to scroll to the end of the page if you want to check them.)

This one is a big one! I hope you enjoy it!

0o0o0o0o000o0o0

Harry joined Hermione in the hall for breakfast, after sending Sirius a very quick perfunctory note saying he'd managed the task but not much else. When she caught sight of him, she squealed and launched herself off the bench at him in a hug. It was only due to quick reflexes that he managed to catch her.

And tentatively hugged her back.

She beamed at him, "I was so worried you didn't come back! Are you okay? What happened? Have you seen the paper? Or the Quibbler? Luna dropped one-off for you. Have you been to the tower yet?" She fired off questions one after other at him.

He laughed and took a seat next to her.

"Sorry, I went to check on the dragons, and help the handlers persuade the Fireball to take the ointment for her cursed eyes. She was a mess after having her eggs crushed," Harry explained.

"I stayed down there last night, fell asleep before I could come back to the castle. Charlie let me crash in his tent. What was in the paper?" He asked.

Hermione sighed, "well, she didn't mention you directly, and didn't name you... But she went into great detail about how heroic the other champions tasks were. She didn't name you, but she did say that the fourth champion did not use any magic at all, but merely took the cowards way out. She then went on to look at the 'evil' dark history of Parseltongue." Hermione said, frowning.

Harry sighed, his good mood vanishing, "well it's better than it could be. I can't stop them mentioning me completely, but it does stop her from naming me and claiming to have interviewed me, or others about me. So it's an improvement."

"The Quibbler's actually better. Surprisingly so for a magazine that writes rubbish." Hermione said.

"It's not rubbish, read it with the glasses," Harry said absently opening the Quibbler, and ignoring Hermione's, "what?"

The front page had a huge photo of him, nose to nose with the dragon. The first 5 pages were exclusively on dragons. A lot of the conversation he had with Luna was in the piece. She seemed to have interviewed some of the handlers as well. Harry was pleasantly surprised to see that the article wasn't about him, just the dragons. Though there were plenty of photos, especially of him, sitting with the dragon, looking over the dragon's wing at the judges and of him stroking the dragons cheek. The piece also explained about dragon bonds, bargaining, and the magic behind it. It was brilliant.

The next few pages had more articles about him. One double spread went into detail rebutting Skeeters original article and explained what really happened to get him into the tournament and possibly why. One talked about who could possibly be behind it. It pointed potential fingers at everyone from Voldemort, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Moody to Minister Fudge. Harry thought it was a good subtle dig at all of them, really.

The next page was completely devoted to an article all about how he managed the task and his scoring. It also covered his oath, why he made it, and why he only made the oath then. It was a surprisingly good article, not playing him up, but not playing him down either. There were more dragon photographs too.

He flipped through the rest of the magazine, reading the other articles Luna had written on how the other champions had faced their dragons. It was clear she had interviewed Diggory and Delacour too, but she seemed rather scathing of Krum who had hurt his own dragon. She had not spoken to him at all.

When he put on the Spectra Specs, he used them to read the Quibbler's hidden articles. Harry had been worried about how much the articles about him would look into Dumbledore. Harry was taking a risk already by working with Luna, as it was without the old farts permission. He was worried that if the Quibbler painted Dumbledore in a too unsavoury light, it would have drawn the man's eye onto Harry again. Harry was in a very awkward and vulnerable position at that moment of not being able to do much other than fly under the radar until he was free of the man's magic.

The first article was on Bagman. It covered his odd scoring of Harry, his offer to help Harry cheat, which Harry had turned down, and his totally out of line post-task berating of Harry for not taking enough risks with his life in the task. It then brought up many of the unsavoury rumours about Bagman's Gambling debts and issues with the goblins to name just a few, a couple of which she'd presented some interesting evidence towards. Some of of the rumours seemed plausible, but some of which sounded completely outrageous.

It was in true Quibbler style however; hiding the truth under outrageous ideas. All in all, it painted a picture of a somewhat desperate man in-debt, who may have been trying to bet his way out of gambling debts, which didn't seem to be too much of an intelligent choice. Harry wondered if it was true, and how Luna found out all those things.

Next, there was a piece about Hogwarts and how it may not be that safe after all. It touched on things that would be common knowledge if you know where to look. It looked at muggle war orphans being forced to go back to orphanages during the bombings. It looked at the death of Myrtle Warren. It looked at the string of incompetent Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, including but not limited to Quirrel, who was possessed, incompetent, and a thief. Then there was Lockheart, who was an incompetent fraud, Lupin, who forgot his wolfsbane one night despite actually being competent, and several other teachers Harry had not heard of. The article then went on to discuss the Philosophers Stone being housed in a school guarded by a Cerberus and continued on to cover the Chamber of Secrets. The school had not been closed either time the Chamber was opened. And then the article went on to cover numerous other incidents that Harry suspected were before his time.

Luna's article, again, was well written, and had obviously been taken from multiple sources; nothing that would directly point to Harry. It was obvious Luna had been working on it for a while, and he wondered what prompted her to publish it then.

The next article moved onto Dumbledore and the ministry.

It started with a critical look at how they had run the pre-task preparation. The Quibbler poked holes again in Harry's name being drawn, Bagman's offer of cheating, the fact that no-one had looked surprised at dragons, and also looked at the harsh scoring.

It then mentioned Dumbledore being Harry's magical guardian and that Harry had not been aware of such a thing at all, let alone who his guardian was. He had been raised by muggles and been kept ignorant of his heritage. It didn't directly point fingers, just looked at a large and alarming number of 'coincidences.' Coincidences such as Harry not getting the introduction pack, not being told he had a guardian, and not being kept from the tournament by said, guardian. It didn't actually antagonise or criticise the man. Still, it did paint him in a subtly neglectful light. It also openly questioned how the ministry could have let anyone slip through the cracks in the system; let alone the Boy Who Lived.

For once, Harry didn't mind the use of that shocking monicker.

It was subtle. Good work; definitely something he could build on. It was proof he could probably trust her. It also went rather nicely towards rebutting Skeeters article in the Daily Prophet.

Luna's article then went on to critique what an appallingly inhuman use of sentient beings the first task had been. It discussed that it not only put the dragons in a horrible position of having to protect their young, but that the ministry had threatened, and forced the handlers to chain the Dragons down.

Luna had obviously talked to the Captain as she went into detail of why the Sanctuary had had to agree to the work and why they had not wanted to. The ministry should have prepared stable and suitable enclosures for the dragons and been prepared to bring them over and get them settled months in advance. This would have meant they could be treated and looked after properly. After all, dragons were real living wild animals, not trained handbag dogs to be carted around at will. It then went on again, about how much damage the task had done, by forcing school students to steal from protective mother's, which had meant a champion got hurt, a dragon got hurt, and multiple unborn dragons got killed.

The article went a step further and poked some more fingers at the ministry, bringing up the muggleborn pureblood divide, a number of other blunders the ministry had made and referenced past Quibbler articles. Apparently poking accusatory fingers at the ministry and at prominent members of Wizarding society was rather common for the Quibbler.

Overall, Harry was very pleased with Luna's work. Hopefully, it would draw a little heat to Dumbledore from the ministry, without drawing attention to Harry. He would definitely be talking to Luna as they approached the holidays to work out some other articles to get things going once he was free of Dumbledores magic. He couldn't wait!

Harry passed the Quibbler and the Spectra Specs over to Hermione when he'd finished. An envelope fell out of the back with his name on it.

Inside was a stack of photos of the dragons, and of him with his dragon that Luna had taken. Some of which had not been included in the Quibbler. Smiling, he put them away to look at later and took a moment to survey the hall and try to get an idea of the students' mood.

As usual lots of people were staring at him. But he could tell that attitudes had changed. The Hufflepuffs no longer looked hostile and angry. They seemed more indifferent now, as did the foreign students. Judging by their dismissal, he supposed Hufflepuff had heard about his warning to Diggory and had, like the foreign students, decided that due to his supposed lacklustre performance he must not be a threat to their own champion and therefore not worth the attention.

The Slytherins, however, were looking at him too, but slightly more covertly. They were giving him appraising looks as if assessing something for the first time. It was a little unnerving, but not altogether hostile.

The Ravenclaws were a bit of both, some looking at him curiously, most still glared believing him a cheat and a coward, and some decided he was a fool not worth their time.

It was the Gryffindors; however, that were a little worrying. A lot of them were glaring at him. Especially Ron further down the table with Dean, Seamus and a couple of older boys, one of whom Harry thought may have been called Cormack McLagan.

Harry frowned. He was getting a lot of dark looks, similar to those of when the house turned on him in his second year when they thought he was a dark wizard. He winced, he had a feeling his standing in the house was about to take a nosedive. Again. Probably more so than it already had.

He had been hoping that the hexing in the corridors would ease up. But he had a nasty feeling about his fellow Gryffindors.

"Wow," Hermione said, interrupting him, "This is actually brilliant! I wonder what spell work is in it! I'll have to take out a subscription! There are so many controversial articles with really interesting news in it! It goes into much more detail looking at the whole plot behind your life really, and why you're in the tournament. It really picks the whole thing apart from all angles very well."

"The question will be," Harry said carefully, "will it change anyone's opinions of me. While this is more positive, it's clear the Prophet has not changed its stance on me."

"No," Hermione said, "Gryffindor didn't react very well last night. I had a huge row with Ron about it." She said with a sigh, putting her napkin down, and getting ready to go to class.

"Yeah?" Harry asked wearily, pulling his wand out in preparation to brave the halls.

"Yes, they reacted badly to you ''snake-like' cowardly method' of doing the task. It was too dark and Slytherin for them and not nearly Gryffindor enough." Hermione said mockingly as they left the hall.

Harry clenched his jaw but smiled at Neville tentatively when he joined them on the way to charms.

"Nice one with the Dragon yesterday Harry," Neville said

Harry smiled, relieved, "thanks. Pity not everyone is going to see it that way."

"Unfortunately, wizards, particularly Gryffindors, are not the most logical people," Hermione said.

Neville nodded and to Harry's relief, changed the subject, pulling Harry and Hermione into an interesting discussion about the book he was reading, Mediterranean Water Plants and their Properties.

"That's the one Moody gave you right?" Harry asked

"Yes. It's really interesting. It mentioned Gillyweed, as well as a bunch of other plants I think, may actually grow in the lake!" Neville said excitedly.

"Can I read it once you've done Neville?" Hermione asked, curiously.

"Sure, as long as the Professor doesn't mind," Neville said, "I wondered if there was any Gillyweed we could use to look in the lake. I was thinking of maybe trying it and see what plants were down there. There are meant to be loads. I think the merpeople down there, farm some of them," Neville said eagerly as they neared the Charms classroom.

That piqued Harry's interest. He didn't know there were merpeople in the lake, or that there was really anything in the lake other than the squid. He had seen people playing in the shallows with the squid in summer. Maybe exploring the lake would be fun.

"I'm game," Harry said, causing Neville to grin, as they took their seats at the front of the class.

"Let's wait for summer first, though?" Hermione suggested, eager at the idea.

"Despite Gillyweed protecting us from the cold, it would still be mad to swim in the frozen lake at this time of year." Neville agreed, falling silent as Professor Flitwick called their attention for the start of class.

Harry lingered behind at the end of class, hoping Professor Flitwick would offer to tell him about his mother again over lunch, as he had before. Harry was interested to note that Flitwick automatically met his eyes but didn't immediately speak. Harry had wondered and held back a grin as he waited.

"Well met Mr Potter," Professor Flitwick said with a grin after a moment, "do have a seat."

Harry grinned and replied in the goblin fashion, "Well met Master Flitwick."

The Professor beamed and said, "just professor is fine Mr Potter. I see you have been reading."

"Yes, sir. I wasn't sure, but I thought it couldn't hurt to try."

"Yes, you were correct." He replied, "I am indeed half-goblin. Though you are one of the more polite students in questioning it. If you have any questions about the book, you're welcome to ask."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied gratefully, "A friend mine lent me some of his other books. I'm enjoying his writing style. He's pretty funny!"

Professor Flitwick grinned, "We think so too, though not many wizards do."

"Have you got the one on goblin language? I'd like to learn but hadn't managed to find one." Harry asked eagerly hoping Flitwick would offer the book his mum had mentioned.

Professor Flitwick grinned, "I'll give you a book that's an introduction to many magical languages. Have a look, and if you can show me you really are interested in the goblin tongue, I may be able to assist you." He said, crossing over to his bookshelf and rifling thought it for a moment before handing Harry a tick tome on magical languages.

Harry was indeed very pleased to see, it was the very book his mum had recommended.

"Thanks, sir," Harry said flicking through it curiously. It seemed to have a chapter or two on many different languages ranging from troll, centaur, giant and ghoul, just to name a few. There was a bookmark in the section on Goblin tongue.

Harry considered how to phrase his question before asking, "Is it really called gobbledygook? It just sounds like such an insulting name."

Professor Flitwick snorted, "no, that's just what wizards call it. We call it something else in our own language. Read the section on Goblin tongue, and then we can talk."

Professor Flitwick called up some lunch, and Dobby popped in, beaming, with two bowls of pumpkin soup, and thick slabs of crusty buttered bread.

They tucked in, and Professor Flitwick said, "now tell me about that sonorous charm you used for your task, it was very interesting!"

Which prompted a long discussion over pumpkin soup about the charms Harry had been modifying and some of the charms his mother had modified in the past.

"One thing I wanted to ask you, Mr Potter, was why you continue to skip meals in the hall when you know it loses your house points." Flitwick asked after a while, "I would not have thought it would endear you to your housemates."

Harry stopped short, "pardon?" he asked, confused.

"There was a staff meeting last week, Dumbledore brought it up," the professor started, "he was worried about you missing meals. He suggested reinstating the old rule of 5 points lost for each meal missed, as an incentive not to miss more. Minerva said she would inform you. This was some time ago."

Harry bit back a snort of disbelief at the thought of Dumbledore being concerned and held back a snarl at the old man's latest bid to manipulate him.

"Why are you asking professor?" Harry asked, instead, not sure what his angle was.

"Well, it is concerning that you're missing meals. You can't really afford to Mr Potter. Though, I have noticed you've been looking a little less sickly lately."

Harry couldn't hold back a snort this time and instead said, "this is the first I have heard about losing points for not attending meals, sir," Not bothering to bring up his issues with eating in the hall.

Professor Flitwick peered at him for a moment, and sighed, "Minerva said she would tell you. Maybe she assumed your housemates would pass on the message. She's so overworked at the moment, the poor thing. What that man is thinking of, denying her request for a replacement Head of House or even just an assistant!" Professor Flitwick tutted and shook his head.

At Harry's frown, he said, "she's dealing with teaching a full course load, being deputy head, which is busy enough without her taking over for Dumbledore when he's called away to the ICW and the Wizangamot. On top of that she's also been put in charge of dealing with the other schools, and being the Head of Gryffindor House. I know she's not the most hands-on Head of House, Mr Potter. It's not that she doesn't care, you have to understand; she's just stupidly overworked. But you didn't hear that from me." He said, looking at Harry sharply.

Harry nodded and sank back in his chair a bit. It had been nice eating away from the hall while it lasted.

Professor Flitwick then said, "I don't mind you eating in the kitchen if that's where you were. I do not begrudge you wanting some peace and quiet. But you need to be at the hall for lunch and dinner. Only breakfast can be taken out of the hall with you. You still need to go there to get it, or you will lose points. It's an older rule that has recently been revived. It's in the charter." Professor Flitwick explained, and Harry heaved a sigh.

He'd have to get a copy of the charter to read, "do you have a copy of the charter I can read sir?" Harry asked wearily. If he was going to break the rules and jump through hoops, he might as well know which ones existed.

Professor Flitwick went rifling through his drawers, pulled out a thick scroll, and with a tap of his wand, duplicated it. He returned the original to his desk and handed the other to Harry.

"Thanks, sir," Harry said, putting it in his mum's bag with everything else.

"Is everything alright, Mr Potter?" Flitwick said after peering intently at him for a moment.

"yes, sir" Harry dismissed, "thanks for lunch, sir and the books."

Professor Flitwick peered at him again, his eyes glinting, but he just said, "You can come to me if you need anything, Mr Potter, my door is always open."

"Thanks, sir," he said, not even considering it. Adults could never do anything. He didn't expect anything to come of it; why bother?

Harry was called up to Dumbledore's office on Wednesday night. He was irritated and apprehensive about it, but unsurprised. Harry approached the gargoyle, breathing deeply as he tried to clear his mind in preparation. He was somewhat successful and gave himself a stern talking to, to not meet the man's eye, to not be obvious about it, and to control his emotions and be careful what he thought of.

Upon reaching the gargoyle, he realised that Professor McGonagall had forgotten to give him Dumbledore's password. He sighed and shoved the irritation to the back of his mind as he waited.

He did not want to list off all the ridiculous sweets he could think of and look like an idiot trying to guess the man's password. Surely a headmaster, who should be accessible to those in his school, would have some way of people contacting him when they didn't know the password. Surely he would know when people were waiting for him. He seemed to know everything else.

After standing there for ten minutes, he turned to the gargoyle, "Professor Dumbledore summoned me. I don't suppose you could let me in? Or let him know I'm here, could you?"

After a moment, to Harry's surprise, it blinked at him, "'bout time one of you lot actually just asked, instead of throwing sweet names at me. What are you lot? Idiots? What do you think we guardians are here for..." It grouched before turning and letting a slightly bemused Harry, ascend the spiral staircase.

The door was open when he reached the top. He could feel the mans magic as soon as he stepped over the threshold. It saturated the room. Soft and deceptively gentle. But under all of it, he could sense a prickling feeling at his feet. Just like the man himself, a mask of lies. Harry almost panicked and had a strong urge to run. But he shoved it down so ruthlessly that he felt little at all, detached. It would help keep the man out of his head. It would all come out afterwards, when the encounter was all over, in a flood of intense panic.

"Ah Harry," the man said, skipping all of the proper greetings and manners Harry noted, "I wondered how long you were going to wait out there before coming up." The man said with a grandfatherly smile, his eyes twinkling. Harry peered carefully at the man's temple instead of his eyes and forced back the irritation. Instead, he said in as reasonable and polite a voice as he could manage, "Well met Professor. I didn't know the password, sir. I was waiting for you to let me up."

"Ah my boy, surely you know I only ever use sweets! That's easy enough to guess."

Harry recognised it for what it was. A power-play. Making people use or guess ridiculous passwords or wait until he let them in. It was a power-play. A subtle reminder of Dumbledore lording over them all. Harry fumed silently for a second before forcing it back too. He could not afford to slip in front of this man.

"My name is Mr Potter, sir," Harry reminded politely, "what did you need me for sir?"

Dumbledore just smiled, in that way of his, that Harry now thought was rather patronising and said, "of course Harry, my boy," and ignored Harry's request completely, "I wanted to talk to you about the first task, Harry."

"Sir?" Harry asked. He hadn't done anything wrong.

"Well, Harry, my boy. It wasn't very Gryffindor of you, the way you tackled it. The only magic you used failed, and then you didn't even bother to show off any daring like the task was testing for. You had even less courage in using a dark gift to accomplish the task." Dumbledore when on and Harry had to bite his tongue in irritation at the man's audacity.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, sir," he said calmly, "I was just doing what I thought best. I didn't think I'd manage any brilliant feats of magic," he bluffed.

"I heard you were going to outfly it on your Firebolt. That would have been much better than using something dark, Harry." The headmaster chided gently trying to come across as disappointed.

Harry held back a sigh and said, "Moody told me to do that, but I didn't want to be accused of cheating again. And it's not a dark power, sir, I just asked her nicely, it's only a language, sir."

Dumbledore frowned at that, "I know that Harry," he said placatingly, "but the rest of the world won't. They will think you have gone dark! I thought you knew better than to flaunt a power you got from Voldemort, Harry," he said, sounding very disappointed.

Seeing that he could not win the argument or dissuade the man, and frankly not thinking it safe enough to do so, Harry backed down. He wanted to get out of there as fast as he could before Dumbledore could do something to him.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I won't do it again. I'll do better next time," Harry said, an image of chastised and remorseful.

Dumbledore beamed, "I knew you'd understand, Harry my boy," he said. Harry fumed as the old fool, kept insisting on taking calling him by his first name and having the audacity to call him his. Harry did not belong to anyone.

He knew better than to bring it up again though, as Dumbledore started picking up steam and going on and on about why Harry's actions had been wrong, and cowardly and why he needed to do his parents and his house proud by being brave and courageous and not taking the cowards way out of the tasks when he knew Harry was more Gryffindor than that. Harry, despite inwardly seething, nodded, and apologised and agreed at all the right moment.

Just when he thought Dumbledore would finally let him leave, Dumbledore said, "and what's this about a media gag order, my boy!"

"Sir?" Harry asked, not sure where the headmaster was going with that.

"I didn't have a chance to properly address it at the task, but you really had no right to sign an independent contract my boy," he said in that kindly grandfather tone, that hid condescending, "the ministry has a contract with Rita Skeeter, allowing her to cover the tournament. You making your own contract damages that Harry. You have seriously let Hogwarts down. It's a great embarrassment, my boy." He finished looking at Harry sadly.

"Sorry sir," Harry said quickly seeing that the road of placating Dumbledore and playing ignorant was still the safest choice, by far. And it seemed, the quickest. He knew the look on Dumbledore's face. It was the same one his relatives used when it didn't matter what Harry said, he'd still be wrong because he was Harry and everyone always knew better than him. The man looked calm if disappointed, but he felt angry, and his magic felt 'louder' than it had been before.

"I didn't know, sir. After she wrote all those horrible things and people started hexing me, someone suggested I get my own journalist, sir." He said, hoping the man would take it.

"I'm very disappointed in you Harry, signing a contract without my say so, or at least your Head of House. You never know what you'll get yourself into, my boy."

Harry bit back a snort and forced back the anger at the man's words.

"You should know better than to listen to others and the paper and let it get to you, my boy. I am very disappointed at your rash actions for a mere hex or two Harry. You have seriously embarrassed Hogwarts." the man said, "you will dissolve the journalist contract and will sit down with Rita after the holidays in compensation."

Seething, Harry pretended to agree. Thankfully the man only seemed to want to go on and on about his disappointment in Harry, instead of pressing Harry for why he'd taken such actions. He seemed more interested in guilt-tripping Harry than actually looking at his behaviour. As far as Harry could tell, he had not used any Legillimency and was only trying to guilt-trip and emotionally blackmail him into doing what he wanted.

Harry politely apologised and parroted the empty words that Dumbledore had wanted to hear. It worked just as it did with the Dursley's and when Dumbledore got tired of hearing himself talk, and hearing Harry agree with him, he let him go.

He was tired and seething by the time he got back to the common room, shaking under the weight of the repressed emotions and the repressed panic that the man's presence had invoked. He wanted a hot shower and to crawl into bed under all the blankets with a book, and just be somewhere else for a bit. To escape, to not think for a bit, to not be Harry Fucking Potter for a bit.

Harry didn't want to face the Gryffindors, but he'd been putting it off too long. He didn't want to get blindsided by them later. If Dumbledore was unhappy with him for his action in the task, he could imagine that Gryffindor would be too. Better to get it over and done with now. The day couldn't get much worse as it was.

Later he would berate himself for baiting the gods of irony.

Unfortunately, he did get blindsided. And it did get worse.

When he got into the common room, he wished he hadn't. It was packed with seemingly every Gryffindor. Everyone was yelling and in the middle of it was Ron, having another screaming match with Hermione. Neville, Fred and George were standing nearby, with an irritable Lee Jordan arguing with Fred and George over something. It looked like several older students, along with Seamus and Dean were backing Ron up.

What on earth was going on? There was so much yelling, so much agitated magic swirling around the room, he couldn't make heads or tails of it.

When they noticed him, everyone immediately fell silent. His heart sank. This was about him, he thought; dread filling him. He looked desperately to Hermione, her hair was looking wild, and her face was red with yelling, tears of fury leaking out of her eyes.

"What's going on?" Harry asked slowly.

"You!" Cormack McLaggen yelled, jabbing a finger at him accusingly, "The Cowardly Lion finally returns! Not so Golden now are you? Less of a lion and more of a snake! A filthy dark wizard you are!" He went on.

Confused, Harry said, "what?"

Ron cut in next, not answering Harry's question, "You got to see the dragons!" Ron cut in.

"Well yes, that was the first task," Harry said bluntly, not sure how that was related to McLaggan's accusation. "I then went down to see the dragons afterwards, to check on the hurt Fireball."

"And they let you?!" Ron said incredulously, "Charlie did? My brother Charlie?"

"I can talk to them..." Harry said shrugging, "and she was distraught. They wouldn't have been able to help her so quickly otherwise. So yeah, the Captain asked me too."

"Unbelievable," Ron fumed, "Charlie never let me anywhere near them!"

"Wait, did you know?" Harry demanded, suddenly.

"Know what?" Ron said, still fuming.

"That Charlie was coming. That he'd be here? Did you know the first task was dragons and not warn me?" Harry said sharply.

Sure, Charlie had told him himself, but Ron didn't know that, wouldn't have known Harry knew about the dragons. Had Ron been prepared to let him go into the task blind, against a dragon?

"'course I did, he's my brother!" Ron spat out, and Harry thought he heard Fred or George swear, but people were muttering again, and the volume was going up.

"And you didn't tell me?" Harry said incredulously.

"Why would I? You got yourself into it. You can get yourself out of it. Anyway, it's not as if you're not used to going into stuff blind. You do it all the time; the stone, and the chamber, the shack," Ron said nonchalantly.

Harry just stared at him, gobsmacked.

"Do you know what some people are saying, Potter?" Cut in McLaggen, "They have been saying, we Gryffindors are not so good as we say we are. That we're harbouring a dark wizard. That we're the cheating house. Normally that's Slytherin! They are comparing us! To Slytherin! Because of you! You're an evil dark wizard and a coward. You bring shame to our house."

"What?" Harry said incredulously, what were they on?

"Is he stupid too, Ron?" An older prefect said, addressing Ron, before continuing where McLaggen had left off, "We don't care what oath you gave. You cheated your way into that cup. Fine, at least it was a Gryffindor, but then you try and back out. Like a coward. No Gryffindor would do that. Then you didn't even bother to do the task properly-"

"What?" Harry exclaimed starting to feel angry despite how anxious everyone's eyes on him was making him feel.

"I did not enter my name in that stupid cup! I have told you that, and I am no liar! I wanted no part of this!"

"Your a liar and a coward," a seventh year yelled, "too scared of a big bad dragon!"

"This tournament has killed people," Harry yelled back, "They're dragons! She was big enough to eat me if she wanted to! Or BBQ me! Any sane person would be afraid!"

"Yeah, just not Gryffindors." Said another one, "But you're not a Gryffindor, are you? You're a closet snake!"

Another person yelled, "you're a dark wizard! I knew you were bad, the year before last!"

"You should have been in Slytherin! You don't belong here."

"We should have realised properly in second year, that you were behind it, but we let ourselves be fooled," Someone who sounded suspiciously like Seamus yelled, "you really were the heir of Slytherin."

Harry felt the sharp sting of betrayal, but before he could say anything, someone else yelled out over the din, "Only evil wizards, Slytherins, can talk to snakes."

"I bet you only rescued Weasley so you could place the blame on someone else, to cover your tracks!"

"Dark wizard! Slytherin!"

"Wait? What?" Harry yelled out over the roar of people all talking over the top of each other, "this is because I asked the dragon nicely to give me the egg? Instead of some hair brain scheme that would have gotten me eaten? Are you lot nuts?" Harry asked, incredulously, "What did you want me to do? Summon my broom and outfly it? Risk getting burnt to a crisp when it wasn't necessary? Why would I? When there was a sensible option?!"

"Yes!" Cried Ron, "that's what Moody said you'd do. I overheard him speaking to McGonagall."

And that was where that piece of gossip came from; Ron. Harry fumed.

"That's a proper Gryffindor would do!" someone else shot in.

"Are you kidding me?" Harry said disgusted, "being able to talk to snakes is A - hardly my fault, and B - it's a language like any other. It doesn't make you evil." The undertone of 'you morons,' did not need to be said.

"Sure, it does!"

"Only dark wizards use it!"

"That makes you a dark wizard," someone else added in.

"Yeah, maybe you-know-who gave it to you when he tried to kill you," another called out, making Harry freeze.

"Maybe you're working for him!"

"Maybe you're really his son!" Someone else shouted.

"Look," Harry said coldly, "I will never work for that ass-hole. He murdered my family. He is responsible for 14 years of misery. I will never work for him. And he is certainly not my father! I asked the dragon nicely because I could. Why not? Why take a hard and dangerous route when there was an easier and more safely available option, for everyone." Harry said, trying to keep calm, not very effectively.

"Yeah well, you're losing us points faster than Neville!" One of the chasers calls out.

"Hey!" Called out Neville

Harry felt another sharp sting of betrayal, "What?"

"Didn't you hear McGonagall say if anyone was to miss another meal, it would be points from our house? And yet you've kept missing them! We've lost loads of points because you're not going to meals. Being too good to eat with the likes of us," spat Ron

"I didn't know!" Harry spat back, "Professor Flitwick only just told me today!"

"Yeah well, it's not the only thing you're doing to sabotage our house! Duelling in the corridors!"

A 7th year yelled, "you're losing all the points I get in transfigurations and charms for the right answers!"

"I'm being hexed! It's self-defence!" he yelled back looking around at them all, he didn't recognise them. He suddenly noticed that most of them were wearing the support 'Cedric Diggory, Potter Stinks' badges, pinned to their Gryffindor robes.

"You're a coward, a Hufflepuff!" Ron called out, angrily, "a true Gryffindor would have done something heroic. A true Gryffindor would have thrown themselves into it, and accepted the glory it would have brought our house. A true Gryffindor would have forgiven their friends when they make small errors!" Ron spat out.

"Yeah" someone yelled, "Even Diggory was more Gryffindor than you!"

"Yeah, you're no Gryffindor! You spend more time in the library than any of us, you're too Ravenclaw!"

"We looked aside, in your first year, when you lost all those points and missed the Quidditch match. We could look aside in the second year when you first talked to snakes. You could hardly help it, not knowing it was bad," a seventh year said, "but now you're sabotaging us with point losses and willingly walking along that dark path. That's unforgivable."

"That's Slytherin, Harry," Ron said.

"Yeah mate," Dean said, "we don't want a snake in our lion's den."

Harry was exhausted and irritated, surrounded by turncoat backstabbers that he'd once seen as his housemates, his friends.

He snapped "I'm not a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff, and there is nothing wrong with those houses. Each of us has a bit of them within us. I chose Gryffindor. What matters is our choices. The Hat put me in Gryffindor; that's what matters. Not that I was almost a Slytherin. You're acting like a bunch of closed-minded Morons!" Harry snapped but clapped a hand over his mouth. He'd never told anyone that, never meant to. What had felt good at the time, was not such a smart admittance. He cursed his temper again for getting him in trouble.

There was deafening silence in the room. But Ron turned to him, rounded on him and grabbed his collar yelling, "you slimy snake, you don't belong here-"

Harry supremely irritated now, stupidly cut him off, "actually snakes are not slimy. They're smooth, and remarkably good conversationalists. Better than you, that's for sure. If you're going to try insulting me, at least make an effort to be accurate about it. Not that made-up rubbish that makes you sound like an idiot. But I digress. I'm a Gryffindor. That's where it put me. That's where I belong. I am a Gryffindor." he said firmly, hoping to sound far more confident than he actually felt.

Was he really a Gryffindor?

"But it wanted you in Slytherin! You filthy snake. And you're a lying liar who lies and a bloody coward!" McLaggen yelled, managing to speak up over all the voices. It just triggered everyone else yelling now over the top of each other, stepping closer and closer to him, backing him up against a wall, pressing in on him.

The noise was deafening, and it took everything he had to stand up tall and not cower away from them all.

He could make out Ron and Hermione arguing with Neville backing her up. Fred and George were arguing with Lee Jordan and the three Gryffindor chasers, on the edge of the crowd. The noise was growing, he wondered how they hadn't disturbed McGonagall. Would she put a stop to it all?

Probably not.

He couldn't make sense of all the yelling. It all sounded like they were chanting a mix of, 'he's no Gryffindor' and 'get out.' At that moment, he finally understood what the phrase 'mob mentality meant.' As they pressed in on him from all sides chanting down at him as Ron pushed his way through, backed up by one of the seventh years.

Someone's voice cut over the rest, "un-house him!"

The crowd picked it up, drowning out the few cry's of protest or confusion, as people started raising their wands as if in a vote, chanting, "un-house him! Un-house him!"

Someone let off a bang from their wand, and the house fell silent.

"The vote has been cast. Majority rules," said a seventh year, "the traitor has been un-housed."

Harry's heart sank, he felt sick.

"You can't," yelled Hermione sounding horrified.

But Brown and Patil just clapped a hand over her mouth. She started struggling. Ron grabbed Harry by the robs and shoved him up the boys' stairs, the others getting louder and louder as they egged him on.

"Get out," Ron spat, "get out. We don't want you here."

Harry stumbled backwards and practically fell up the stairs. He was not used to seeing such anger in his once friend's eyes. He froze for a split second. He did not recognise the person in front of him. So much so that he suddenly looked like one of his relatives.

Please let it be some kind of compulsion making him act so out of character. Please let this not be Ron, he thought desperately. Ron took a step forward, and Harry scrambled out of reach and hurried up the boy's stairs at a desperate run.

Harry could hear Fred and George rounding on Ron, but it didn't make him feel any better. Gods, let them not all chase him up, he'd never make it out of the tower in one piece otherwise. Hermione broke free of the girls, and followed him up as the house started yelling and chanting again, "get out."

He stumbled to a halt when he got into the room. The Dorm was a mess, and it stank. He stood there, gaping in shock.

His wards were broken. His curtains and bedding was smouldering and had been burned and slashed. His trunk was in tatters, broken open, scorched and sliced up, where the wards had been overpowered and imploded. He had felt something out in the forest earlier, but not familiar with wards, he had not recognised it for what it was; someone breaking his wards.

He shivered. This place had always been safe. Safe from the rest of the house, safe from the rest of the school, everyone. But now... he hadn't expected this. Sure Ron and sometimes the others would rifle through his trunk, borrow things, copy homework, but he'd never really cared before. He was used to no privacy and not owning anything of his own before. That's how it had always been at the Dursley's. But he had not expected this!

Dudley and his father's clothes were all over the floor, torn and cut up into pieces. They were smouldering slightly, burnt and blackened and covered in something wet and smelly.

Revulsion coiled in his gut, the scent of ammonia filled the room, and his gut rolled. He turned to his trunk again, fingering one of the blackened pieces. All his old assignments, class notes, all his original textbooks, all burnt and gone. All the revision things he'd been keeping for his exams, for his OWLs... and his textbooks. He'd been going to sell them second hand, so he had enough money for a room over the break. And his dress robes, he wouldn't be able to return them now.

Dread pooled in his gut when he realised he'd left his mother's blanket on the bed, and his photo album. He ran across the room and let out a strangled yell. His photo album was on the bed. The pages were torn out, some of the photos ripped. The blanket had been cut with a slashing hex and was in pieces.

He let out a strangled sob, and grabbed his slashed pillow and swung it hard against the post of his bed in fury. It exploded in a cloud of feathers. His face crumpled, and he balled his hands into fists, not sure if he was trying to stop himself from screaming or crying.

He picked the torn blanket up gently in shaking hands, his fingers barely obeying. It felt different now. It smelt different now. His eyes stung, and he jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"It was my mums," he said forlornly, turning willingly into Hermione's embrace.

She held him tightly for a long moment, and he shuddered but sank into her offered comfort. Softly Hermione called, "Winky?"

There were a pop and a gasp. Followed by another pop and a squeak.

"What has they been doing? Mr Harry Potter sir!" Dobby squeaked, his voice going impossibly higher with agitation.

"Miss?" Winky asked while Dobby sped around the room, snapping his fingers as he went, at the mess on the floor.

"Winky," said Hermione slowly, not letting go of Harry, "this blanket, on the bed, has been cut with spell work. It's very precious to Harry. Is there any chance of fixing it?" She asked gently.

Winky looked at it for a long moment, before climbing up onto the bed and peering at it so closely her nose almost touched it. She then sniffed it, then clicked her fingers and pressed her ear to it as if listening for something no-one else could hear.

"Winky can fix it, Miss," she said finally looking up at them, "It was cut with a knife, not a hex. Its ill intent broke Miss Lily's magic. Winky cannot bring back the smell or Miss Lily's own magic, but Winky can fix it. Winky be fixing it so it looks as it did and can mends the spell work. It won't be Ms Lily's magic, but it will be warm and soothing as it was before." Winky said, her eyes wide and sad.

She surveyed the mess on the bed before clicking her fingers again. The photo album mended itself, another snap of her fingers and the torn pictures flew back together as good as new. A third snap and each photo slid itself back into his correct page. She tapped the cover with a long finger, and handed it to him, "it's protected now, with elf magic, sir."

"Thanks," Harry croaked, gingerly taking the album, and hugging it to his chest. He was so grateful now that he'd put nearly all his important things in his blood warded bag. All his mum's letters and books were in there, and his dad's books. He only had one change of clothes now, other than what he was wearing, some socks, a clean uniform, and his black cloak. He'd only had them in his bag in case he fell asleep by the dragon's again, or in the shack. Now he was glad. He sighed, he'd have to go to the Room of Requirement. He wondered if he could stay in there. But anyone could get in there...

"Winky is taking Ms Lily's blanket now, young master Harry, sir," Winky said tugging on his sleeve to get his attention, "Winky is being looking after it, sir. She be taking good care of it, sir, and be returning it to you soon, sir!" She squeaked sincerely, "don't you be worrying, Winky, be taking cares of it!"

Harry bent down and pulled the startled elf into a quick hug. She squeaked again, patted him awkwardly on the shoulder and popped away with the blanket.

Harry sniffled, scrubbed at his face and looked around the room again. A huge weight was on his chest, too numb to be angry. Dobby had fixed the furniture and vanished the smelly mess of ruined clothes and books in the centre of the room. His trunk was gone too, but the scorch marks on the floor were still there.

"Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter, sir," the elf squeaked very quietly.

It was the most sombre he'd ever seen the elf, "Dobby could not fix the mess, it was too magicked, sir, too much ill intent sir. There was not enough bits left to repair properly sir. Magic of ill intent is hard to fix, Harry Potter, sir. And they is knowing it!" The elf said sadly.

"It's okay, Dobby. They didn't get anything that important, my school things were in my bag, along with most of mum's things," he said wearily.

Dobby beamed and hugged Harry around the knees. Harry patted him fondly on the head.

"Thanks, Dobby. You're the best. You and Winky."

"Harry," Hermione said, "you have to go to McGonagall. You can't stay here. Not if they've done this. They want you out. There's no telling what they'll do. And your wards are not enough to keep you safe from the older years. This isn't right, Harry. They shouldn't be able to do this!"

"I know," he said tiredly, he was so tired now, "I'm not going to her though. There's no point. I'll find somewhere else to sleep. There are a few bolt holes I can borrow," he said.

"What about clothes and things? Bedding!? Harry, where are you going to sleep?" Hermione said worriedly, "I can lend you money if you need to owl order? I know you have hardly any budget, my parents are very well off. it's no trouble, honest."

"I'll manage Hermione. Don't worry," Harry said, squeezing her hand reassuringly, though who he was trying to reassure, he didn't know, "thank you for offering though. It means a lot to me, but I'll be fine."

"If you're sure. Come on then," she said, sounding equally tired, but as if she were trying to be strong for him, "let's get out of here before they come up and hex you." She said, pulling the door back open.

There were a bunch of sixth and seventh years on the stairs, angrily lining the way down as if to make sure Harry left and didn't get any ideas. The staircase was packed. There was barely any room for him to get past them at all. He wondered for a moment if he should go back in and fly out the window, but he'd left his broom in the broom shed on the Quidditch pitch. He'd have to get that to keep in his bag now too.

He went down the spiral staircase and didn't look at anyone as he crossed the silent room. It was awful. Just as well Ron seemed to have disappeared. Neville, Fred and George were by the portrait hole, looking horribly upset.

"Mate," the twins said, and he flinched but didn't fight as they pulled him into a hug, just allowed them to, and stood stiffly against them. He jumped when Neville laid a hand on his shoulder. It didn't fix it, but it did help. They were on his side, even if they were outvoted. He shuddered again, as he let himself, for a moment, lean on his friends. They held him steady, a warm solid presence around him

"Oi!" Yelled a seventh year, "get away from them; traitor!"

Harry flinched as hands grabbed him and shoved him away. He fell and saw others yanking his friends away from him, holding them back. Fear coiled in his gut. Were they okay? Would they kick his friends out, too?

Ron.

Rage boiled in his gut at the sight of him again, "how can you do that, Ron!" Harry yelled, seeing his tattered blanket and photo album all over again.

But Harry's arms were being pinned back before he could even draw his wand properly, and Ron was yelling, "you traitor! Eat slugs, snake!"

His spell hit Harry in the stomach in a jet of sickly grey light. It burned, a horrible, sickening squirming sensation like something was moving inside him. If the spell hadn't made him suddenly nauseous, that alone would have. He doubled over, as something squirmed inside. Gods it hurt. Gods help him, there were things moving inside him! He clamped a hand over his mouth automatically, clutching his stomach, choking as something moved in his throat.

People were yelling again. Harry thought it may have been Hermione, but his insides heaved. There were slugs in his throat! Fat glistening grey slugs spilt out of his mouth, wriggling and squelching as they hit the floor. People screamed and squealed at the sight. Someone let go of him hurriedly with a noise of revulsion as if he was a disgusting contagion.

He heaved again. Slugs spilled out of his mouth again. Gods, it was gross! He felt violated, contaminated. The sight alone would have made him sick, but the smell and the taste along with it, had him heaving violently. More thick glistening grey slugs splattered onto the floor, covered in thick mucus, choking him. His insides ached. He heaved again. And again.

People shrieked. Harry was too busy puking slugs to try and cancel the spell. It was awful and disgusting, and his insides were squirming and crawling. There were things moving inside him! It was so profoundly disturbing and gross. People were looking at him like he was disgusting and moving away from him in revulsion. Those that were not disgusted with him were laughing and pointing.

Hermione was trying to fight her way forward towards him but was being held back by her dorm mates and the older girls. Her wand was out, and she looked seconds away from hexing the lot of them. The twins were elbowing people, too, yelling. He thought he heard a camera go off, and he groaned his face burning. More slugs come spilling out of his mouth, the acid burning in his throat and mouth. Only this time they don't hit the floor...

A bucket.

George.

He tried to thank him, but all that came out was more slugs. They were green now. Harry would have found the colour gradient slightly interesting if it wasn't so horrible and uncomfortable if he wasn't so busy being sick. He clutched his middle as cramps ripped through him and his insides heaved, again and again, squirming all the while.

He curled into a ball as George stepped forward as if to try and cancel the spell. Someone yanked him back. Harry froze as he caught sight of Ron, standing there laughing.

Looking just like Harry's father had in the photos.

It's not magic, Harry thought. That's just Ron. Harry had been familiar with the feel of his friends magic for years and as much as he hated it. That was all Ron. Harry'd just never noticed it before, always somehow turned a slightly blind eye to this side of his once-friend. Someone grabbed Harry by the scruff on the neck, and shoved him out the portrait hole, with a "yuck," as Harry vomited all over the person's shoes. Served them right, he thought savagely, spitting another slug at the person.

"If you come back Potter, we'll hex you so bad you won't be able to see straight!" Another yelled and gave him a sharp kick out the door. He fell forward, narrowly avoiding landing in the bucket of slugs and vomit that had been tossed out after him. His hands stung as he landed on the stone floor, despite the slug slime. He almost fell down the stairs.

He tried to scramble up, to get back in, not even really thinking about it, but the Portrait hole was slamming shut in his face. He scrambled backwards instead and nearly fell down the stairs, again, in his hast, vomiting slugs all over them. He tried to vanish them or to cancel the spell on himself, but he was still puking slugs up so fast, he couldn't get the words out. He couldn't draw his mind away long enough to cast it silently. All he could think about was the horrible squirming sensation that was the slugs crawling in his insides, the ache in his guts from the spell and the vomiting. He couldn't even think of a counter-spell. Gods, everything hurt.

He tried to stand up but stumbled as his insides cramped. Then he was puking all over the floor, again! His side burned where he had been kicked. He crawled into an alcove behind a tapestry instead and waited for it to pass.

Hagrid has said, back in second year, that the only thing to do was wait for it to pass. It wouldn't kill him. Just be really gross, and rather painful. He'd just have to wait it out. So, he sat there, puking his guts up into a conjured bucket for a long time, praying, in mortification, that he won't be found. And that the conjugation on the bucket would last long enough.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**End notes:**

Yes the ammonia smell is piss.

Harry knows this smell two reasons, piss smells like ammonia, he has used ammonia and bleach to clean with since a young age. Particularly the upstairs bathroom that dummy uses a lot. Dudly was a horrid messy kid, harry spent a lot of time as a very young kid having to clean up Dudly's messes, especially in the bathroom. And being the little horror he was, Dudly would often make a mess knowing harry would have to clean it. So yes, harry is very familia (unfortunately) with what piss spells like. Poor sod. Its also probably something the muggle bullies used in primary school, pissing on harry's things. Harry was also locked in the cupboard for days on end… think about it.

**Trigger warnings:**

Vomiting & Slugs

Mob mentality - they gang up on him

He gets pushed about a bit

And he gets kicked


	29. Chapter 29 Return to whence one came

It was well past curfew when he stopped puking long enough to stand up, and vanish all the mess h'ed made. Some of the slugs had crawled away out of sight, and he didn't have the energy to chase them, so he left them for Mrs Norris and Crookshanks.

Everything hurt, particularly his ribs and stomach. He vanished the mess, the bucket, and what he could see of the slug trails leading down the steps from the escapee's. He didn't need to make more work for Flinch and get on his badder side. As if the man had a good side.

He pulled out his cloak and donned it snd immediately felt safer. He looked around, the corridor was deserted. He approached the fat lady tentatively, "ma'am?" He asked, before pausing to cough up a single small slug. He winced.

She made a sympathetic face, "they've changed the password, dear," she said, sounding apologetic, "you'll need to wait to be let in."

Turning on his heal, Harry trudged down the corridor. If before was anything to go by, that would never happen. He wasn't sure he even wanted to go back now. He just hoped Hermione, Neville, Fred and George were okay. He'd have to find somewhere else to stay.

He dismissed the shack, he liked it, but it was cold and dilapidated. He didn't have the energy to fix it up and ward the whole thing right now. Se wanted somewhere small and dark. Somewhere safe. Somewhere he wouldn't be found. That few people knew about. And the magic of the castle was stronger, friendlier, and as much as he hated being inside somethings, the castles wards were safe. He'd have to find somewhere in the castle.

His mind started turning over the different places. The Room of Requirement wasn't one place. It was many, it could be anything. But he wasn't the only one that knew about it...

The dungeons though, they were cold and Slytherin territory but were dark and mostly deserted, especially the lower level below the mail dungeons that the Slytherin common room and the potions classroom's inhabited.

It was old and deserted and had plenty of old rooms and store cupboards, that Harry had spent many a sleepless night exploring. He'd never once seen anyone down there. That would be safe. That would be secluded and empty, abandoned. It would suit him perfectly.

He went to the Room of Requirement first and asked for the room of hidden things. He needed clothes and to replace his possessions. But he was so tired, he figured that could wait until the morning. But he required PJs, a doona and blankets to keep him warm at night, as well as a pillow. He was hoping he could find some in the room.

The room was just the same as it had been last time, and Harry was still little overawed by it all. There was so much stuff there. So much unclaimed, unowned stuff. So many hidden treasures. Harry was struck suddenly by an odd longing. He'd never really had anything of his own, except for his Hogwarts things, and yet here was all this unclaimed stuff here for the taking. It took him a while to identify that feeling of want.

He flushed, feeling ashamed. He did not want to be like Dudley. Just because there were piles and piles of unclamped junk and treasure, didn't mean he should just take whatever he liked. He didn't need all that stuff. Some clothes and essentials were required, but nothing else. He did not need to be greedy. He did not need lot's of stuff to get by. Just the minimum.

Harry set about finding some fresh bedding to use. He ended up finding a bunch of blue pillows, that had the Ravenclaw crest on them, some black blankets and a very fluffy Slytherin doona. After casting some intense cleaning charms on them, Dobby helped Harry fold the bedding and put it in his bag.

Harry was very glad it seemed to have endless pockets for everything and space-enhancing charms on all of it. With everything he'd been keeping in it now, the pockets sure helped.

"I is finding clothes for you, Harry Potter sir. Hogywards has lots of old clothes sir, Dobby be finding some for you sir," The elf explained, then at Harry's slightly worried look said, "I is picking people ones though Harry potter sir, not elf ones."

Harry smiled weakly, hoping that meant there would be no garish colours, and started looking around. The room of hidden things seemed to have very little order to it, but there was indeed plenty of forgotten and abandoned clothes, lying all over the place.

Some were clearly very very old, some more modern and Harry winced at the bright orange muggle flare pants covered in flowers. He settled on some plain button-ups, that looked to be once part of a uniform, black woolen slacks, a bunch of pants (a few jeans, and a few cargo pants, with pockets that looked useful), a 'new' belt, some long sleeve plain shirts and a few extra waistcoats (they always seemed so cool on Bill) and a lots of jumpers to keep him warm under his robs. Hopefully Winky could add warming charms to those ones too. It was getting colder now, and he was starting to feel it in his bones.

The robes styles too had changed over the years. He decided he didn't really like the school robes very much. They were very similar to muggle academic gowns or smocks. He preferred the older open styled robes that were more like frockcoats or even the fitted robes that were buttoned to the waist and then flared out, with slits around the legs to allow for a full range of movement. He put aside a few black pairs and a few more school robes, and a 'new' hat and cloak for outside. He handed them all off to Dobby, who was eager to clean, mend and re-dye them all black for him.

It took him a while, but between him and Dobby, they found replacements for his things, and Dobby had gotten fresh toiletries for him from somewhere, and Harry had found some warm fuzzy green and black pyjamas.

"You is needing socks and under things too, Harry Potter!" Dobby squeaked, "Dobby be finding some."

"Thanks, Dobby I appreciate it." Harry sighed, resigning himself to again, to using second-hand socks, "I don't need much though. I'll manage. You're brilliant, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Dobby is happy to help his friend Harry Potter sir!" The elf squeaked.

Harry went down to the dungeons using the Map to avoid a patrolling Professor Snape and Flitch. The latter seemed to have found a few slugs and was muttering darkly about it. He considered briefly tipping off Filch that the slugs were Ron's fault, but decided revenge was better served cold.

He made it down to the lower dungeons. It was safer there, he thought, farther away from Gryffindors, and a floor below where most of the Slytherin traffic was. This lower level was colder, and while clean, had an air of disuse and neglect. It would have made anyone else feel slightly uncomfortable, but Harry, having spent a lot of his childhood hiding in forgotten, dirty, unused corners, felt quite comforted by it.

There were no paintings or statues down here. No spys. It would be safe, and quiet enough that Harry would hear anyone coming from miles away. He ended up choosing an old and forgotten store cupboard near the heart of the lower dungeon. The corridors were more narrow, and twisted and turned more like a maze or a rabbit warren here. More so than anywhere else in a castle. It would be easy to get lost down here he thought with delight.

The door of the cupboard he chose was unlocked. It was small, just big enough for him to get in and out of. Honestly, the door was more elf height than human height, and he wondered if this area used to house-elf quarters of something.

But the thing he liked about it, as awkward as it was to get in and out of, was that too small for an adult or an older student to easily use, he thought, with a savage pleasure.

There were mops and buckets and old boxes in it. The cupboard itself had little floor space, a bit over a meter square. it was about the same size as Harry's cupboard back at the Dursley's. But this one was tall. It had shelves starting at his stomach and going up far above his reach. Like a treehouse, he thought, as he levitated the boxes and things up onto some of the top shelves on one side.

He used the old cleaning supplies to clean up the small space until it practically shone. Using the repetitive brainless actions to calm himself down, to ground him so he could think slightly clearer and plan ahead. The dust and dirt was all vanished with a flick of his wand. He filled a bucket with water from his wand, and gave the floor and walls a good scrubbing, before drying them with a charm and vanishing the filthy water. The air smelt clean now.

He lay out all the blankets and pillows he'd gotten from the Room of Requirement, in a little nest on the floor and placed his bag in a corner. The few clothes he had left, he stacked neatly on a shelf, next to his ratty shoes.

Harry put up all the wards he could think of. Then painstakingly, with help from the big book of warding he'd swiped from the Room of Requirement, added some more and even tried his hand at some blood wards from the book he swipped from the restricted section. He layered them on both sides of the door, the walls and the floor. He even climbed up the shelves like a monkey to layer them onto the ceiling of the cupboard too.

It was not enough yet, but the notice-me-not charms and subtle bounty alarm wards, to warn him someone was crossing, were layered all along the corridor and along the floor, wall and door of the cupboard. That should keep it safe enough. At least until he came up with a better ward scheme. He didn't trust it enough to unpack properly yet though. His wards had been broken before. Sure he'd added more now, and layered in a password, in parseltongue. But if the twins could lift and bend the library wards, he would have to figure out how to anchor these wards, so people couldn't bypass them. So they really would keep people out and keep him safe. He'd have to ask Bill for some more suggestions.

It almost felt like home, he thought as he got changed into his pyjamas.

He could use the bathrooms down here, they were mostly forgotten this deep down. He'd stumbled across them one night when he was wandering, unable to sleep.

Harry looked around his cupboard again, there was a stack of old towels on one of the upper shelves, that he could clean and use. No-one else could use the snake bathroom, it had a parseltongue password, so he could easily leave his toiletries there. Yes, he thought satisfyingly, this would do quite nicely. Much better down here in the dark away from all those people.

He'd make and claim this cupboard as home. Harry layered several heating and cushioning charms in the corner, before re layering his blankets and pillow down in a nest. He curled in a ball. It was cold still, as it always was in cupboards. But it was better here than in his room at home. At home, it was cold and hard with little in the way of a blanket at all. Not that the cupboard under the stairs at his aunt Petunia's house was home. But Harry had nothing else to consider home. Despite Hogwarts often feeling something like what Harry thought home should feel like. At least it had to start with.

Harry summoned an empty mason jar off one of the higher shelves and spelled some Bluebell flames into it. The bright blue flames flickered merrily, letting off waves of heat. He grinned, watching it for a moment before putting a lid on the magical fire. He wrapped it in the folds of one of the blankets and curled up around it.

At least here, Harry had charms on the stone floor and plenty of heated blankets. It was comfortable, cozy and dark. Just the way he liked it. Being back in a cupboard, for the first time since he'd had his letter, made him realise how much he'd missed it. How much he'd found being in a proper bedroom disconcerting.

His bedroom back at his aunt's place, his cupboard, had always been far more comfortable than Dudley second room. There, he always felt like he was intruding, creeping where he did not belong and besmearing it. At least in the cupboard was his, and he was safe. Sure he hated being manhandled and locked up, (but that happened in Dudley second room too) and he hated other people being in the cupboard with him, not that anyone at no. 4 could fit. But if he was in there on his own, on his own terms, there was nowhere he felt safer. Most adults and upper years couldn't to fit in and wouldn't want to. Cupboards were great when they weren't being used as a prison.

He spent more time sleeping under the bed at his aunts. Too scared his uncle would come in and grab him. Even at Hogwarts, for the first few months, he had waited until everyone was asleep and had then crept under the bed with his pillow and blanket and slept there. It just felt so much safer in a small space few people could get to. Even now, he still had trouble sleeping in proper beds and open places.

Somewhere high out of reach was fine, like a tree, people rarely looked up, but he still preferred small dark spaces to let down his guard in. He wondered if he'd ever really be comfortable in such big rooms like Hogwarts had? Would he ever be able to sleep in a real bed without tossing and turning, and feeling overexposed where anyone could walk up and grab him? At least at Hogwarts, there were curtains that he could fool himself into think were like his cupboard, and wards to keeping him safe.

He yawned and curled up tighter. Yes, it was much better here. Safer, hidden and far more comfortable. They'd leave him alone here, they'd never think to look for him here. He'd always lived in a cupboard before his Hogwarts letter, he thought as he finally drifted off, it was strangely fitting that he'll live in a cupboard one here too.

0o0o0o0o

Harry would not tell anyone what had happened with Gryffindor, what was the point? And it would take a long while before anyone figured it out. That is, other than those who had been witness or perpetrator. Later, the staff would wonder how it had been kept a secret for so long. And some would wonder how their colleagues had been so oblivious.

0o0o0o0o

When Harry woke the following morning, he felt surprisingly well-rested, not able to clearly remember any of his nightmares. It was quiet. It took him a while to remember what had happened and why it was so quiet. He slid his glasses onto his nose and looked around.

Oh, the cupboard. His new home. It all came rushing back. But when it did, all he felt was relieved. Relieved to finally be away from people, to have peace, and quiet, and safety. His own space. He may have hated how his 'family,' locked him up in his cupboard back at their house, but he had liked the peace and the safety of it. While they could keep him in there, they couldn't get in themselves. He was safe from them in his prison. It had been a gift and a curse.

After Harry had used the bathrooms, Dobby popped in with the stack of clothes he'd liberated from the Room of Requirement, freshly laundered and re-dyed.

"Dobby and Winky be cleaning and mending your new clothes sir, and we be finding underthings for Harry Potter sir!" He said in greeting, handing Harry a tall stack of clothes. Harry took them hurriedly and was amazed to see they looked practically good as new.

"Wow, thanks Dobby. What do you mean under things though?" Harry asked

"We is finding undershirts, singlets, and tights to keep Harry Potter warm sir," Dobby said, holding them up, "Winky said you is still cold even with her warming charms. She is saying you is not insulated enough. Not enough padding sir. So you is needing more layers, sir. These is be keeping you warm if you is wearing them under pants and shirts sir" Dobby squeaked holding up a set of the black woollen tights and a singlet.

Harry peered at them dubiously, never having worn tights. But they felt warm and surprisingly soft. He was cold enough at that point, his warming charms had worn off, that he didn't really care. So he pulled a pair on, pleasantly surprised that they fitted and were indeed quite warm. He pulled on a singlet and a long sleeve top as well, followed by the black woollen slacks, a dress shirt and tie.

"They is old uniforms Harry Potter sir," Dobby squeaked handing him a grey waistcoat, "now we is just having robes, but at one point they had tights and tunics under open robes, and at another point they had dress uniforms with shirts and slacks under open robes. They is old sir, but clean now and will keep you, warm sir," Dobby finished handing Harry a worn but mended school jumper.

Harry layered up, and Dobby asked, pointing to the other stack of shirts and pants, "is you wanting different colours, sir? Dobby can be changing them, sir? You is having coloured clothes before."

"Erm," he said, thinking about it. He'd never had a choice before, "just black please, for everything but the shirts. They can be grey for now, for a bit of contrast. I was never a red fan before, and while I do like forest green, it will only rile Gryffindor up and feed the dark Slytherin rumours." he sighed, "I like black, it's neutral. Let's just keep everything black."

He watched curiously as Dobby tapped the pile of clothes and watched as black seemed to seep from his finger. After a moment the clothes were all black and looked freshly dyed and pressed.

"You're brilliant Dobby," Harry said, as Dobby did the same thing for the grey shirts.

"Dobby is happy to serve, sir," the elf squeaked, "this stack has enough clothes for each day now, sir!" The elf squeaked, pleased, "and Winky be finding more school robes for you, sir, so you have enough of them too now, sir!"

Harry nodded and cast a tempos charm. He still had time for his run before breakfast. He grimaced, just the thought of breakfast made his insides squirm. Oh well, he still had a few hours yet and was meant to be meeting Ronan in the forest anyway.

0o0o0o0o

One of the things Harry really liked about the Centaurs was their lack of interest in the goings-on of the castle. They were also largely disinterested in Harry's life out of the forest. It was a bit of a relief really. But he did hope sometimes that he was doing enough, was useful enough to them in return. He hoped he was not getting more from them than he was able to give them in return. He'd hate to unbalance the scales.

Harry's lessons with the centaurs were going well. His archery has been improving, and he was getting better at tracking and setting snares. His arrow making was improving as well, and Ronan had started teaching Harry how to make knives, and how to use and throw them.

He wasn't good at throwing them yet; actually, he was pretty bad at it. But Ronan had said it was to be expected and to keep practising. Harry had been enjoying channelling magic through the antler and stone looks when he was knapping flint. It's surprising, he thought, how sharp one can make flint or bone. Especially with magic to help it along a bit.

It had been very challenging at first to channel magic into his hands, especially not being able to feel it. But in the end, he managed to control it by watching and focusing on its effect, not on what he was feeling, or not feeling.

Often Firenze or sometimes Ronan would lecture Harry while he practised. But not Bane, who Harry had the distinct impression, did not really approve of him or teaching him. Like Hagrid, they pointed out useful plants, and things to gather that grew in the forest, and slowly taught him it's ways. They explained how to gather some of a plant correctly, and how to make sure not to take too much so that the plant would continue to grown and thrive. They would explain different uses for different parts. Often their uses for it differed greatly from wizards uses.

The Centaurs showed Harry how to move soundlessly in the forest, though it was different for him with his feet than it was for them with their hooves. But once he worked out that he could draw heating runes onto his feet, and imperturbable charms and shielding runes on them, he could run delightfully bare foot though the cold dirt. It was much easier.

They showed him how to not leave signs of his passing. They told him about their race, of their herd, and the etiquette they used. They explained how they wanted humans to treat them. Harry sucked it all up like a sponge. They didn't talk about divination or many of the centaurs beliefs and practices. Harry got the impression that it was sacred knowledge. Maybe in time they would, when they had come to trust him, but maybe not. As curious as he was, he was happy enough to wait and absorbed whatever they were willing to share.

He took to taking his bow with him whenever he went out into the forest, and practised at every opportunity. He liked it. The heavyweight of the draw, the focus required to aim and fire the arrow. He wasn't very good at it yet, he still sometimes missed, but he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the effort of it, and how meditative it was. He did get good at fletching arrows though and gave almost all of the arrows he made to Firenze or Ronan in trade for his weekly lessons along with the herbs and plants were also diligently gathered for the centaurs.

The other thing he'd taken to carrying on him at all times now, was his knives. It had been ages since he'd carried a knife. Somehow, and he was fairly sure he knew how, he'd forgotten about them, and how important they were. How often they'd saved his skin on the streets when he couldn't face being at the Dursley's.

They'd been no help against Dudley, the only time he'd threatened Dudley with a knife to leave him alone, his uncle had given him the hiding on his life and locked him up for months.

But they kept him safe on the streets, where he'd taken refuge from the Dursley's. It hadn't always been enough, there was always someone bigger and stronger than you were but he'd learnt to fight dirty and fight hard, and to use every advantage he had.

Somehow he'd forgotten all of that in coming to Hogwarts. But now, when so many people were out for his blood, it made him feel a bit safer having a knife in his pocket, for when his magic wasn't enough.

0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o

NOTES:

Flint knapping - using stone, bone or antler (normally) to chip of bits of flint to shape it, in this case into arrow heads or knife blades.

Knapping can also be done on obsidian, glass and other fracturing stones

Its supper cool if you want to use the link below just remove the spaces.

www. jjstonecraft blogs/ news/ 14306297 -what-is-flintknapping

Note on the Cupboard.

As a kid his cupboard was his safe haven, too small for his relatives to get him. So it feels safe, he looks for something like that.

Yes he's claustrophobic, but only with others in small spaces and/or when he's trapped. If it's on his terms, he feels a strong draw to them as its safe. The dark is safe. Small spaces grown ups can't get into are safe.


	30. Chapter 30 The Aftermath

Despite Professor Flitwick's warning, he did not go to the hall for breakfast that morning after returning from the forest. He would not sit at the table with all those turncoats and pretend everything was fine. Screw them all! As far as he was concerned, Gryffindor was not his house anymore. Even if the younger years and some of the younger years hand been part of kicking him out, they'd stood by and done nothing. So fuck the lot of them he though savagely.

He also did not want to be in such close proximity to them. That would have just been stupid and asking them to hex him black and blue. No, thank you.

Harry did not really want to go down the the kitchens to eat breakfast, not after having slugs crawling inside him the day before. But Harry did give in to Winky's pleading and agreed to a light cup of ginger tea and his daily nutrient potion. So he headed down to the kitchen and was joined by a very worried Hermione, Fred, George and Neville. They all looked exhausted and ranged from angry to miserable.

Hermione rushed up to him and pulled him into a tight hug. He flinched and stiffened, pushing her away gently, but patted her on the back.

"Oh Harry! Are you okay?" She asked. She had bags under her eyes, and her hands were shaking, "I can't believe they did that Harry! And unhousing hasn't happened in over a century! I won't let them get away with this Harry! We'll fix this!" She fumed.

"I'm okay," was all Harry said.

"Yeah mate, what happened after they kicked you out?" Fred asked,

"We tried to go after you, but we were outnumbered," finished George.

"It was horrible," added Neville, sounding as miserable as Harry felt.

Harry sighed, "I'm fine. I managed to find somewhere safe to crash, and Dobby helped me replace my things. I'm good." He assured them feeling numb again, "what happened to you after I left?"

"Well," Hermione began with a sigh, "they kept arguing and yelling for ages, going on about how you were no Gryffindor and must have been a dark wizard in disguise all along. They were brainstorming how to get you expelled." She started, "it's easer now you're un-housed apparently."

"I'ts a really old tradition," Neville cut in.

"Yeah," Harry said, "it's mentioned briefly in Hogwarts: a history." He said making Hermione beam at the reference, "it is when a house pushes someone out, if the person is shaming said house or acting in a way that is detrimental to the house or it values. It's a way of punishing them. It's a really extreme punishment. If that issue between the person and the house is not fixed, Hogwarts magic will permanently un-house them. If it's totally unanimous as apposed to merely majority rules, it happens quicker."

"We won't let it happen!" Said Hermione "We'll fix this Harry, we'll fix this. This is so stupid."

"I'm not sure I want to fix it."

"What?"

"I actually I know I don't! I might be a Gryffindor. Or I was a Gryffindor. But not any more. Not their brand of Gryffindor. I'm still brave, still courageous, but I'm not one of them. Not one of them who continually turn on me and have now cast me out. I want no part of that. I won't go back to those who cast me aside.

Hermione looked at him a long moment, "okay Harry," she said nodding, "but I don't want to be part of that. I want to fight them over it. I want them to take it back, because I don't want to be part of a house that does that to someone." She said, "I don't want to be like that. And I know I'm not the only one really mad about it. There's a small group of us, mainly muggle borns that think its stupid, casting you out over a language, over being sensible! They just weren't able to say anything without the older years turning their attention on them."

Harry scowled but said, "just be carful then," he said slowly, "and do it for you, not for me. I'm done with the lot of them."

Hermione just looked at his with steely determination, then added "I'm still going to research this. It's insane that none of the teachers can do anything or over ride it. I need to make sure we're not going to be blindsided by anything else, or that it doesn't have any nasty consequences we don't know about."

"Thanks Hermione."

"I can't really believe they did that," Neville said quietly.

"Do they really hate me that much though?" Harry asked in morbid curiosity.

"I don't think it's that. I think some honestly don't like you because they don't know you. You've always been rather withdrawn and antisocial. And it didn't help that Ron hogged so much of your attention." Neville said considering, "They all believe whatever rumour is going around. None of them ever really got a chance to know you, not that that's an excuse, you're a Gryffindor and that deserved house loyalty. It's as simple as that. But I think half of it's the hype, herd mentality, one get's angry and it spurs others on."

"Just so," cut in George, "Gryffindors are brave and will follow a leader doggedly, but are not always,-"

"The most loyal or open-minded, astute people in the world," Fred finished, "they're fiery and hot headed."

"And Ron, we checked Harry," Neville said, "Hermione asked Fred and George to do it, but we checked him for magic, he's clean."

"Yeah, mum would never let anyone potion or compel her baby's," Fred said slightly condescendingly.

"It's all him," finished George, "Bill taught us how to check."

Harry slumped, a small part of him, had still been hoping it was magic on Ron. "I guess now I think about it, his jealousy has been getting worse, and he had always tried to hog my attention."

"You would not believe how many people he gives the stink eye to when they try and talk to you," Neville said.

Sighing, not wanting to think about it too much, Harry pushed it from his mind and said, "I'm out, but will you lot be okay?"

"We'll be fine, won't we?" George said and the others nodded.

"Ron won't actually hurt anyone. We were surprised he hexed you so bad, to be honest. He's generally just hot air." Fred said

Harry shivered at the memory of slugs crawling around inside him again, and shut his mouth tightly, feeling queasy. What if there were still some slugs left?

"Where are you staying, Harry?" Asked Neville, "did you go to Professor McGonagall?"

"No," Harry said, "she has too much on. She doesn't have enough time to worry about my issues. I'm not about to ask for her help when I know she'll tell me to stop waisting her time or to stop bothering her like she did after my name came out. She doesn't like me much anyway," Harry said, "I can look after myself. I found a bolt hole away from the tower, I'm fine."

"Not even the hospital wing?" Neville asked.

"Why bother? Pomfrey nocks me out and will keep me there all day, and theirs nothing you can do for the slug hex anyway except wait it out." Harry said irritably.

"True, Ron got himself with it in second year." Hermione said before sighing, "It was the seventh years, and McLaggan. They'd been conspiring after the task, really up in arms about the Parseltongue thing. It was as if your oath didn't matter at all!"

"It started with a few of the older years, and the wizard raised," Neville said.

"Then it just kept picking up steam, the younger years stayed out of it, but when the prefects supported it, and the seventh years were intimidating those that disagreed it got out of conrole." Hermione said.

"Ron pointed out your bed, when they started getting rowdier," Fred said.

"He panicked when he realised they were destroying your things. He tried to rescue the photo album, but they said either they burnt it or he had to destroy it. So he tore it up and cut the blanket," George added "so that they didn't piss on it or hex it, like the rest.

"I think he was in a small way, trying to save them, Harry," Neville said quietly, "so they could be repaired with magic."

Harry scowled, and muttered, "shit fucking job he did of it."

He took a fortifying sip of his tea, then said "it's better if they do un-house me properly? If you let them? It's better on my own, I think. As long as we can keep the teachers from finding out, I don't need more scrutiny, I'm happier on my own. Really. Now I'm out of peoples eye, and it will be harder for people to get to me without me knowing."

"But Harry," Hermione protested, "this isn't right! Unhorsing is meant to be a punishment! And you haven't done anything wrong!"

"You shouldn't let them get away with it mate," Fred said

"But you're not going to fight back are you?" George guessed.

"what? Why not?" Neville said, "get a lawyer if

"can't afford a lawyer! I'm literally stuck under Dumbledore's thumb. If I draw his attention now, he'll know I'm slipping out of his shackles. He'll then make entrap me even worse and I may not even know he's done it. I can't take any risks like that before the holidays. Not when I'm so close to getting out." Harry explained, after casting a few extra privacy spells, and filling the others in on what had happened at Gringotts and what he'd found out.

"Still we won't let them do this to you Harry!" Hermione said angrily

"I'm serious, they'll pay but not until I'm safe. I can't afford to be stupid or carless about this!" he cut them off

"I don't want to be Gryffindor any more. I'm now out of the way and will be left alone. Honestly, it's better this way, no one will find me, it's brilliant!" he said, "anyway talking about it won't fix anything. I appreciate your support, and you're joining me, but I don't want your association with me to make your life hard. What if they un-housed you too?"

Fred, George and Neville paled at that thought, but Hermione said, "I don't care. My parents don't really care about houses as long as I get good marks."

"We'd be in serious trouble from mum," Fred admired reluctantly.

"Everyone's been in Gryffindor for ages. She'd be really mad if we were kicked out." George said, "but it would be just another stupid delinquent thing her idiot sons have done so..." He trailed off darkly.

"What do we care?" Finished George.

"Gran's disappointed in me anyway," Neville said with a miserable little shrug.

"Guys, no." Harry said, "let it go. I don't want them coming at you to get to me. I don't want you guys getting into trouble with your family for me."

"We'll be fine," Hermione said stubbornly, "Neville and I can stick together in class, and we're all together in the common room."

"We're always left alone," Fred said,

"We have a certain reputation for trouble you know," George said with a wicked grin.

"Fred, George" Harry said hesitantly, remembering how horrible the slug hex had been, and his father's 'pranks,' "do you ever hurt people with your pranks? Humiliate them?"

Fred looked at Harry very seriously, then said, "no. Not deliberately anyway."

"We accidentally hurt Montague once when we pushed him into the vanishing cabinet, but that was an accident," explained George "We didn't realise it was broken. We thought it just looked a bit banged up, and that he'd appear someone where else in the castle, or maybe somewhere outside,"

"but mostly that it would be pretty cool, and might teach him to actually leave us alone." Said Fred

"We didn't think he'd get hurt, just end up somewhere else," George added.

"And then there was the salamander, we tried to feed it a firework," Fred pointed out

"Oh yeah, Charlie really ripped us a new one for that, when he heard" George said with a wince, "one of the few times I've seen him genuinely mad at us."

"We all have our thing that sparks the red head temper," Fred said jokingly, "but Charlie's is animals. Nothing makes him loose it faster than animals not being treated right."

Harry remembered suddenly Charlie screaming at the Captain after the task at the sight of the Fireball.

"You'd think that as fire creatures, Salamanders wouldn't disagree with fireworks." Fred said, "if fire is their playground, why is a firework not okay? We thought they'd like it, not that it would blow them up. Lucky it was smart enough not to eat it really."

"We've may have gone a bit far a few times," said George, "with Ron, we were kids, mostly without really understanding what we were really doing."

"But we didn't intend to really hurt him or upset him, or anyone," Fred went on.

"But there were accidents," said George "turning our teddy into a spider, freaked Ron right out,"

Fred sniggered at that, then added "The acid pop."

"Ouch, we didn't realise it was that acidic. Who lets kids have them anyway if they're that bad? We just thought it would be like mum's stinging hex's when she doesn't want you touching something."

"There was the unbreakable vow" added Fred

"What's that?" asked Harry.

"It's like a promise, but if you break it, you'll die," explained Neville "they're not something that's generally talked about and are serious business. How'd you guys hear about them as kids?"

George shrugged at Hermione's horrified look and said "didn't realise it would kill him. Only time we ever saw Dad as mad as mum."

"We just thought it would make Ron keep his promises for a change and stop stealing our shit." Fred finished.

George considered making a joke about Fred's left buttock never being the same, but considering Harry's history, thought better of it.

"We didn't really adjust that well at first when Ron came alone and having little siblings taking up all of mum's time even more," George said, "and sometimes let our temper get the best of us, with Ron as kids. But Bill and Charlie set us straight and explained to us where that line was."

"We apologised profusely, to Ronnie," said Fred, "haven't done anything like that in ages,"

"Seriously," George said to Harry, "with pranks, we don't try and hurt people. We like making people laugh Harrykins."

"And no-one's laughing if someones hurt or truly humiliated," added Fred, "We're not above teaching people a lesson if they've been really horrible, but we don't hurt people."

"We're not like them, Harrykins," George said, "we're carful with our pranks, we're not bad people," and there was an old hurt in his voice that made shame coil in Harry's gut.

"Whoever them is, we're not like that, promise" Fred added, "we're not"

"We like laughter and good memories, not the other way round." Finished George, as if the old hurt was forgotten so easily.

Harry looked away, "sorry... I'm sorry, I know your not bad people, you guys are good to me, I just- I just-" he trailed off thinking of his dad. And was surprised when they both pulled him into a hug.

"It's okay," said Fred

"You tell us if you think we're crossing the line," George whispered.

"Thanks," Harry said shakily before for pulling away, "come on, we better go, or we'll be late to morning classes. Seriously though guy, just drop the house thing. Let it go."

They had transfiguration all morning. Professor McGonagall didn't seem to notice all the frosty glares the Gryffindors were sending Harry or all the hex's he had to constantly deflect. She didn't notice Hermione helping him deflect them, now that she was on the receiving end of them as well because she'd sided with Harry. And McGonagall also didn't notice the looks of fury Hermione shot Ron and the other Gryffindors between spell deflections or the looks disappointment Hermione shot her.

McGonagall didn't seem to notice anything had changed at all. But Harry didn't really expect her too. It didn't stop him from being mad about it though. Honestly, when half the class was hexing each other and the tension was high enough to cut with a knife, how did she not notice? Was she really that over worked that she wasn't noticing anything that she didn't want to see?

Defence against the dark arts was... odd. He'd been increasingly wary and uncomfortable since his little realisation about Moody, but the class ended without any trouble, as did his Arithmancy meeting after dinner, and he hurried back to his cupboard to do his homework in peace.

Dobby had found him a wall sconce from somewhere, so he lit it with a small fire spell. It lit up the cupboard brilliantly with a warm flickering glow. His warming charms had held up, so it was quite cozy inside. A transfigured mop acted as a wonderful lap desk so he could curl up on his blanket nest to do his work, in peace, quiet and comfort.

It took much less time than in the crowded library where he was often jumpy, or the noisy common room where he was always hyper-alert and constantly being distracted.

He looked up as Hedwig flew in. Winky had found some kind of wooden ring, that after she'd worked some elf magic on, allowed Hedwig to fly in and out of his cupboard. They were both rather pleased with the arrangement, and Harry transfigured one of the shelves into a stand for her. It was nice being able to stay together again.

She had a thick letter tied to her leg. He cast several detection charms on it before he freed her of it. When he took it from her, it grew a little, and he found far more sheets of parchment inside, than it should have been able to fit. He frowned and had a look at the letter.

To Harry's delight, it was from the WEA, the Wizarding Examination Authority. They had happily replied to his letter with a full curriculum study guide for OWLS and NEWTs. He'd not had a chance to look at it earlier. But now the task was over, he dove into what they sent him with relish.

They'd included all the Hogwarts subjects, not just History of Magic and Defence like he had asked. They had even gone a step further, so pleased to have someone interested in history and schoolwork, that they'd also sent guides for the other subjects not offered in Hogwarts like; Politics, Etiquette, Estate Management, Ancient Studies, Religion, Language, Enchanting, Spell Creation, Alchemy. They even included enrolment forms for their correspondence courses, which was interestingly enough covered under his tuition feels for whatever institution he was part of. There were then enrolment forms for the OWL and NEWT exams sat at ministry, with were held every easter and summer holidays.

Harry was delighted with their over-enthusiasm. He was surprised to find out that anyone could book in at the Ministry to sit an OWL or NEWT in any of the term breaks. As long as they were over 14, that is. Apparently, many Pureblood students did that during their easter and summer breaks, to test in the subjects not offered at Hogwarts like Etiquette and Culture as well as Estate Management and Politics for the Heirs.

Now that was food for thought, Harry pondered, staring at the parchment in front of him. It would be a real thumb in the nose to Dumbledore and everyone who thought him stupid, who wanted him stupid, for Harry to actually get all his NEWTs. If he managed to sneak out at Christmas, there was no reason he couldn't sneak out again in the summer breaks to sit more OWLs in the Ministry.

He would have to carefully make a study schedule. He would have to do the bulk of the work over the summer in all probability. He couldn't get much of it done here while the tournament was on...

But wouldn't it be great to see the expression of shock on all those moron's faces when Harry got NEWTs in every subject offered. He grinned. It would be hard, but if he managed his time correctly, he might just manage it. It would be worth it too, to stick it in all of their stupid faces. He'd prove himself better than all of them!

It was a pity he didn't have a time turner, really. That would have made things much easier. He wondered if the Room of Requirement did something similar, or maybe there was one in the Room of Hidden Things...

He sighed. There was so much he wanted to learn. He put away his finished homework and pulled out his planner. He was already working 9 subjects into his time table, as well as scheduling in time in the forest and being tutored and tutoring the Slytherins. He'd have to be careful to add in these new subjects too. Hopefully, his Slytherin lessons would tie in with Politics and Etiquette.

He supposed he'd have a lot to do over break. Which ones would he prioritise? He would probably stretch himself too thin doing all of them at once. Better to focus intently on one or two and do them early. But he was particularly interested in… damn it, all of it, and he was several years behind!

He understood Hermione's frustration at having to drop a few subjects back in third year all too well now. Damn it! He needed a time turner to take them all. But how to get one?

Could he really afford to juggle everything?

He'd manage. He always managed.

Harry had stiltedly continued to write to Bill and Charlie, as promised. He hadn't told them about the un-housing, or the school's reaction to his task, nor did he say anything about Ron.

Instead, he sent Bill his ward plans, with a request for advice on how to strengthen and anchor them. He told Bill all about the first task, sending a copy of the Quibbler along, and told him all about the projects he was working on. He had added glasses to his project now, wanting to enchant them to see magic and invisible things like Moody's eye. If he could recreate it he could protect against it.

He told Bill how well the shirt worked and how he was working on finding another power source for it instead of blood so he could work something out for the dragon keepers. He wrote about the WEA's response and trying to work all the subjects into his schedule.

Bill wrote back enthusiastically, clearly passionate about complex magic and warding. Between the two of them, Harry was confident they would be able to ward his new home to keep him safe and to keep others out. He recommended a bunch of new warding books that Harry 'borrowed' from the Restricted Section.

Bills letters were full of laughter and encouragement, and he sent along notes, with a fang earing. He promised it would keep Harry safe from the sun and from sand fly's if he ever encountered them. Harry couldn't wear it yet, but he would. He had some ideas on how to get his ears pierced, and would try it out over the holidays. Bill sent back some of the notes on wards for his cupboard and between the two of them Harry knew they would end up impenetrable. Nearly.

Harry sent Charlie a copy of the Quibbler too and told him about his studies, his projects, and the time in the forest with the centaurs. He thought Charlie know there were things he wasn't saying, but like Bill, Charlie just replied with letters of work, fun stories and talked to Harry about projects and studies. He helped Harry excitedly with fireproof shirts as well, and like Bill's letters, Charlie's were frequent.

They helped. A little patch of brightness in Harry's otherwise bleak world.

Charlie laughed when Harry told him about the little dragon models he'd liberated from the task and how they now sat on his shelf and prowled at night. They were adorable, and he was falling in love with them a little bit. He sent Charlie some photos he took with a forgotten camera he'd scavenged. And often he stared at them late at night when he couldn't sleep, watching their tiny puffs of flames glowing in the darkness.

He did not send another letter to Sirius though; what was the point?


	31. Chapter 31 Sev & Professor Snape

TRIGGER WARNINGS!

This one has some trigger warnings! The details are at the bottom of the page for anyone who wants to check them.

If I put them here they'll contain spoilers for everyone.

0o0o0o0o0o0

The other thing Harry had been tackling that week was his mother's books. Harry had pulled out her book on the flower language in a desperate attempt to distract himself from the images he had seen in the maunders prank book. They were still bothering him. He didn't want to see them when he closed his eyes in his nightmares, didn't want to remember, didn't want to face the fact his father had been Sev's Dursley's.

The flower book hadn't been notated like so many of her other books. And it was more like an encyclopaedia or dictionary than a textbook. Each plant or flower had a drawing of it, the name and a detailed explanation of the meaning.

He flipped through the pages randomly, reading different flowers here and there but stopped when Wormwood caught his eye.

Wormwood. Suddenly he remembered Professor Snape's words from his first-ever potions class, 'What would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood? What is the difference, Potter, between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?'

Harry started frantically flicking through the pages, Asphodel and Wolfsbane were in the flower language too.

Of course, Sev... Severus Snape. How had he missed it?

It hit him like a punch to the gut, all at once that Professor Snape, his potions master, who hated his guts, who hated his father's guts, was the same Sev that played with his mother in the park, that his father picked on, that was abused growing up.

Something inside twisted painfully, and he frantically pulled out the Maunder's Grimoire, flicking through the pages. Yes, the dark-haired boy, so often the target of his father and his friends, looked a lot like a very young Severus Snape.

How had he missed it? Of course, Sev! Sev was short for Severus, Severus Snape, Potions Master. How the hell had he not put it together!? He clenched his jaw and started flicking through the book again. He'd read about a lot of the things the Maunders had done in Lily's diary, but he was hit now, but a feverish need to know. To know every sin his father had committed against Professor Snape. He needed to know what he'd done. Needed to know everything his father had done to the poor boy that grew to hate him and hated Harry too, despite loving his mother.

After that, Harry couldn't not reach out one more time to his mother's friend. Harry, as hurt as he was, as mad as he was, as much as he hated the way Professor Snape snapped and snarled at him (to a small justifiable extent), as much as he was loath to, for fear of his potion master's sure-to-come ire, Harry knew that once Sev had been his mother's friend. He couldn't help but reach out to that boy. He couldn't help but reach out to the unspoken message in those questions all the way back then.

_I deeply and bitterly regret Lily's death._

He looked up and the ceiling turning the idea over in his head. Clenching and unclenching his jaw. Sev and Snape were the same person. Did he want to do anything with that? He didn't forgive, as a general rule but what Snape was apologising wasn't his fault. Was it? Either way Harry wouldn't mind melting his mother's Sev, as apposed to Snape. He scribbled a note on the back of his potions homework.

'If you asked me about Asphodel and Wormwood, about Monkshood and Wolfsbane, I would say that I would add a White Tulip and an Eglantine Rose. It would give you a daffodil yellow potion if you were to add a sprig of purple Hysinthea and a Star of Bethlehem.'

He was not going to say anything to anyone, Harry thought determinedly, as he put his potions homework back in his bag. If Professor Snape didn't want anyone to know that he was Lily's friend, Harry wouldn't tell. He'd done enough to the man already. His father had done enough to the man already.

But Harry had to know. He had to know what happened. Yes. He felt horribly torn about it. He wanted to know what happened, but if it had been him, he would not have wanted anyone to know. It would be a considerable breach of Professor Snape's privacy. But he had to know what his parents had done. He struggled with it, agonised over it before he slowly opened his mother's journals again.

He buried himself in her diaries, not pausing or looking up from his reading. He read through dinner, desperate to find some clue in a young Sev's world, desperate to find some good in the form of his mother to somehow make up for how bad his father was. He was desperate to have some sort of reassurance that it got better, that there was a happy ending, that at least his mother had been a good person and had been there for Sev.

But what he got from his mum's perspective seemed even worse as she talked about how Sev felt and how she hated it, and Harry's father. She and her friend Sev had clearly been very close growing up and continued to be through their Hogwarts years.

Harry wondered what had happened to them, feeling his heart clench at the continual reminders that her journal gave him, of just how awful his father and his friends were.

His mother's diaries had stopped at the end of OWL year. Shortly after Sev was assaulted in front of the school and Lily had stalked off after he called her a Mudblood. Sev'd waited for hours outside the common room for her all night. And when she finally came out, eyes red from crying, they had a screaming match.

She yelled at him for calling her a Mudblood. She'd been so hurt that he'd turned on her. That he'd used that word on her. He'd been quiet in regards to his friends using it. She didn't like it but she'd understood. She'd understood how hard it was for him in Slytherin surrounded by would-be Death Eaters when he wasn't one himself, when he was only a poor half-blood.

She understood needing to stay quiet and to fit-in to be safe. But then he turned on her, in a moment of embarrassment when she had been trying to help. That had been unforgivable. He'd yelled right back at her for calling him Snivillus and poking fun at his worn clothes, at abandoning him to be assaulted by the Marauders when they'd had him at their mercy.

They had screamed at each other, for hours, both furious and hurt. She hadn't spoken to him after that, despite how much she missed him. She could hold a grudge. Her parting words to him on the Hogwarts Express had cut Harry to the bone, on Sev's behalf.

"I never expected you to stand alone and stand out against them," she had written recalling their parting words, "I never expected you to stand up for me when it would draw their ire and the pain of their wands. We both know that's way too dangerous. They outnumber you too much and know where you sleep. I understand what you have to do, to stay in with the right people in that house; to survive there, such as it is in these dark times. As much as I hate it, I get it. Because there are no happy endings in the real world, we both know this.

There is no-one to save you in the real world. You have to do it yourself. Life sucks, and you have to do things you don't like to survive sometimes. Especially when you grow up as poor latch-key kids in Cokesworth like we did. But I expected you not to turn that bigotry on me. What happened Sev? It was us against the world. We swore houses would not change anything. Where's that Sev? I miss my friend, but he's nowhere to be seen."

Harry couldn't believe she'd left him like that, or that Sev'd said that to her, had called her a Mudblood. Harry ached as he read her entries. The more he read, the more he saw himself in both of them.

She had left him then, hadn't seen him all summer, but she had written down the look on his face, the dark shadows under his eyes that spoke of too little sleep or perhaps too much time trying not to get hexed into oblivion in the common rooms, and later too much time staying away from his family home.

She had stewed and worried about whether to forgive Sev straight away or not. She had talked and fretted at length how hard it was, being a poor boy from a muggle neighbourhood, with no Pureblood standing in the Slytherin snake pit. But that world turned on her, and she was angry at him for not being at her side, the way she tried to be for him.

Harry wished he knew what had happened. On the one hand, he was furious at his mother for abandoning her friend. But he ached for her too; for the one true friend that knew her, that understood her, that was her brother, her other half, had turned and hurt her.

He knew that pain.

He ached for that loss. He knew what that felt like, that world-shattering realisation that things would never be the same. The Sev in his mother's diary's seemed so different from what Harry knew. He was guarded and cynical and sarcastic. Sev was cold and detached but gentle and kind to his mother. Slow to open up and feel, but was passionate and had fun with Lily. Sev was nothing like the potions professor Harry knew. And Harry thought, maybe he was a bit like that too. It hurt.

Harry wondered if he'd ever meet that person. The Sev his mother knew. He wanted to. He wanted desperately to connect with something of hers.

Harry jumped a mile when his wand started buzzing. He cursed, that would be his alarm to remind him to go to Astronomy Class. Cursing, he bundled his things back into his bag and sprinted up to the tower. Astronomy had improved greatly now he could see. Harry was finding it much better now. He loved looking at the stars now he could see them clearly and was still amazed by how much easier seeing was with these glasses.

Tonight, he could not stay focused though. His mind constantly drifted back to what he'd learnt. And when he rushed back down to his cupboard after class, he wouldn't have been able to tell anyone what they had learnt.

He pulled out the Marauder's Grimoire again, when he got back to his cupboard. He read it cover to cover like his mum's Diaries. Prank after painful prank he slogged through it and realised the full extent of it. There was a lot his mother had never known about. His father and his friends had written all of them down. Preserved in all their excruciatingly humiliating detail. His father was just like Dudley and his gang.

By the time Harry had finished reading the books, he had to summon a mop bucket down to be sick into. Professor Snape had been hexed and nearly choked using soap on multiple occasions, he had been assaulted, striped naked in front of the school, and had been set-up with a werewolf to die. Black had set him up to meet Lupin under the full moon, Harry had to stop for a moment. That wasn't in his mother's diary, either it happened after fifth year, or she didn't know. He stared at the words on the page. His godfather had tried to murder Snape.

And! If Harry's father hadn't intervened on that full moon, to save his friends neck, Professor Snape would have died or worse, been turned. Sirius had known that and did it anyway. All for what? Because Sev was a Snake? Because he existed and was poor and unkempt and not well-liked? Because he was so smart, he made everyone else sound like morons?

He, Harry had been on the receiving end of so many similar incidents from his cousin. He had been through such similar hexing here at Hogwarts. All Harry could feel for the man now was sympathy.

His heart broke a little inside. Both for young Sev, for the pain he went through, and for the friend of his mother that he had hoped to meet, to make potions with, to talk about his mother with. The friend of his mother he would never get to know now. Professor Snape hated his guts because Harry was his father's son.

And his heart broke little for himself too. For having that dream broken, that hope, that belief that somewhere inside, his father has been a good person. But he wasn't. His father was not a good person.

People had lied.

In that moment, Harry hated his father more than he had ever hated the Dursley's. Despite all they had done, the Dursley's had always been horrible. That's just who they were. They never let Harry down as he had always known to expect that. But his father. His father had let him down. Harry had expected better of his father. His father was supposed to be a good man.

He felt angry to be so disappointed in the man, a man he never knew, never remembered. He felt ashamed that he felt that he deserved better from the man who was meant to be his father and a good person. But he wasn't a good person and that hurt.

Professor Snape made more sense now, Harry thought. No wonder he hated Gryffindors. No wonder he hated Harry. Harry would have too. He felt guilt well up inside him. All he could do was make amends for his mistakes and not make the same errors his father had.

Harry was floored though, as he finally drifted off into a tormented sleep. Despite Professor Snape hating his guts, and rightly so, he still gave Professor Flitwick the photos for Harry of his mother. He still protected Harry over and over again.

0o0o0o0

Harry was very quiet the next day; not really talking to anyone, not even Winky and Dobby. He found himself using formal language and behaviour to keep the world at a distance. He'd been doing that more and more lately, he realised. He'd been doing it to everyone, to the teachers, his peers, Hermione, the Twins, Neville, even with Bill and Charlie in his letters. Did he care though? That he was holding the world at arm's length?

He deflected Hermione's questions on their morning run when she saw the bags under his eyes. Didn't tell her why he had stayed up all night, didn't say why he was so quiet.

He didn't talk to Hagrid as they did the morning rounds in the forest, patching up one of the salamanders and tending to a Hippogriff's talon rot. Hagrid seemed to understand though. He'd always had been good with broken things, Harry thought self-deprecatingly.

He skipped breakfast again and felt so queasy that he could hardly get down anything more than Winkey's nutrient potion. Again.

Hermione, despite knowing, as she always did, that something was up, didn't push him, to his great relief. She just quietly kept him company as he buried himself in his studies and his books during class, then in the library. She followed him under the cloak between classes, as they avoided the school's population and stuck to his side as she helped him deflect the Gryffindor hex's that were now directed at her too.

He was grateful for her patience with him. She just gently took his hand every so often when he got too quiet and too lost in his own head, not able to differentiate between his own memories and images of his father bullying Sev.

Potions class was painful that afternoon. He'd managed to slog his way though History of Magic and through Charms. He had studied his way through lunch. But as always the class he'd been dreading came around much too soon. He'd meant to apologise to Professor Snape now the task was over. But now that he knew...

Now Harry knew about Sev, and his father... he wasn't sure he'd ever been able to look the man in the eye without feeling that burning shame and humiliation.

Harry kept his head down through class. They'd missed their theory and demonstration class on Tuesday, due to the task. He and Neville had a slightly harder time brewing their potion, but they planned it out diligently and managed to get it mostly right, to Harry's relief. He didn't need to give Professor Snape more ammunition against him. The man had enough.

He reluctantly loitered behind as the bell went, waving a concerned looking Hermione off. He needed to say something. He didn't want to, but he needed to. He owed it to the man to apologise for his own arrogance, and wrongdoing at the very least. He had no intention of ever mentioning his father.

Clenching his jaw with dread, hoping he was not just about to expose another weakness to be used against him, Harry carefully approached Professor Snape's desk as some of the class filed out. Greengrass just give him a discrete nod of approval on her way out. Malfoy sniggered and some of the Gryffindors elbowing Harry sharply on their way past him.

He gulped when he caught sight of Professor Snape's face. Harry could feel the loathing coming off the man in waves, making Harry feel a little dizzy with it. He didn't blame the man, though.

"Well, what do you want Mr Potter," Professor Snape sneered.

"Well," Harry stuttered his mouth suddenly very dry.

He swallowed and started again in a clearer, stronger voice, "Well Met, Potions Master Snape."

Harry bowed. Deeper than required, a show of respect, but once again, with his palms up, empty, a sign of peace, "I'm sorry for disturbing you sir, but might I have a moment of your time?"

Professor Snape looked momentarily surprised but said nothing, leaning against the side of his desk, his arms crossed. Harry looked up and felt cowed and awkward with Professor Snape towering above him. But then, most people towered above him.

"What do you want, Mr Potter" Professor Snape repeated after a moment, "I haven't got all day."

"Potions Master Snape," he said, but was cut off.

"Just Professor is fine, Mr Potter," Professor Snape said echoing Professor Flitwick, "it's about time you learnt some manners."

Harry glanced up. Professor Snape's face was blank, but he was peering at Harry like he was a particularly strange potions specimen. In the background, Malfoy had stalled to watch Harry get humiliated. Just like Dudley, it seemed to be one of his favourite pastimes. He snickered. Harry thought he may have imagined it, but a minute frown flicked across Professor Snape's face at that sound.

"Er, yes, sir. It is. I'm very sorry, sir," he started, then began properly, "I offer you my formal apologies, sir. I have recently become aware that I have been rude though my ignorance and may have appeared arrogant because of it. I had no idea about anything until now. I had no idea how important manners were or that they even had a different here from in the muggle world. I didn't know, but now I do, I realise that my behaviour and treatment of you was appalling."

"I'm very sorry sir," Harry continued, forcing his voice to stay steady, "I don't think you're horrible at your field, or that you don't deserve respect. Nor do I think you're an idiotic fool who I can learn nothing from. I did not intend to snub you so badly. I am fixing my ignorance and will endeavour to not repeat my mortifying behaviour. I am very sorry, Professor."

Professor Snape looked at him for a long time, his black eyes glinting. Harry couldn't read his face but hoped, though he knew he shouldn't, that Professor Snape would believe him, would forgive him.

"Detention Mr Potter, after dinner, for lying. Get out of my sight." He said after a long pause. While the words were angry, his tone wasn't.

Frowning, Harry left; Malfoy's snickering followed him out.

0o0o0o0o0

Harry went to the Potions Dungeons after eating dinner alone in his cupboard. While he actually liked the dungeons, lots of good places to hide and explore, or work undisturbed, Professor Snape's office was still terrifying due to its occupant.

The door was open when he arrived, and despite his great trepidation, he knocked on it anyway to alert the Professor to his presence.

"Professor Snape, Sir?" he asked tentatively when the Professor ignored him, "I'm here for my detention, sir."

Wordlessly, Professor Snape waved him in and pointed a potion stained finger to the chair in front of the desk before jabbing his wand at the door. It slammed shut, and Harry forced back a flinch. Professor Snape kept writing for a long moment, and Harry had to force himself to keep looking at Professor Snape's desk, instead of glancing anxiously at the door.

When he had finished, Professor Snape set his quill down and stood up. He crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the desk again. He peered at Harry with those cold black eyes of his.

"I do not accept your apology, Mr Potter, for I do not find it to be sincere or even truthful," the Professor drawled, in a dangerous voice after a long moment. "I do not know what little game you are trying to play this time, but you will cease and desist this instant."

Harry slumped in his chair. He had come here trying to mend broken fences. It had galled him, but he had swallowed his pride to try and right his wrongs and still Professor Snape only saw his father. Still, Professor Snape didn't really see him, Harry, but only what he wanted to see.

This is why we can't do nice things, he thought to himself bitterly, because no one ever believes us anyway!

"How can you possibly be such an unbelievably spoilt brat, to not know basic manners, you arrogant little snot." Professor Snape asked, disbelief colouring his seemly permanently, irritated tone, "or did you just not bother to read the books your guardians gave you. I know they were muggles and may not have known the details, but there were books." Professor Snape scorned.

Harry clenched his jaw to stop himself gaping. They were given books for him? He was about to protest when Professor Snape said, "never mind! I don't care. You will need lessons then, if you're telling the truth about that at least," he said, sounding resigned and furious.

Harry controlled the urge to cringe away from his tone. He would not show the man any weakness.

"Yes sir, but some of my Slytherin peers have offered, sir," Harry bit out holding back slowly growing fury, "Ms Greengrass gave me this list, but warned that I would need permission to get them from the restricted section, sir," he said holding out the list, trying to be helpful.

He had planned on just breaking in, but he probably shouldn't make a habit of it, in case it was noticed. If Professor Snape was actually going to give him a pass like Greengrass had said... Well, Harry wasn't about to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

Professor Snape moved suddenly, making Harry jump. He sat down behind his desk again, pulling out a quill and scribbling on the bit of parchment Harry had given him, before for thrusting it back at him.

"Give the list to Madame Pince. She'll get them for you. And just those ones!" He said sternly as if expecting Harry to disobey, "and I suppose this is what prompted this out of character apology?" Professor Snape sneered suddenly, his eyes full of loathing again.

"No, sir!" Harry tried to protest taking the paper from him reluctantly and putting it safely in his bag, in case Professor Snape were to change his mind suddenly.

"Liar. I do not like being used! Get out," Professor Snape said furiously.

Harry wanted to run from the room, but held his ground. If he didn't fix this now, it would never change. He owed it to the man his mother had been friends with, to sort it out.

"No, sir! I really didn't know. I didn't get the introduction list! I only just found out about it, sir. My relatives didn't tell me anything," he said, reluctant to say anything about his relatives, for fear of it being used against him later. And Gods, he hoped Professor Snape didn't say anything to Dumbledore.

"I really was apologising, am apologising, sir," he pressed on, "it wasn't to manipulate you sir, but when you brought up lessons, I figured I'd tell you I'd already sorted it out so that you didn't feel you had to sir. I know you hate me. I didn't want you to feel you had to spend more time with me. You've been good to me. It's the least I can do, staying out of your way, sir." Harry said, scuffing the tip of his dangling foot. He hated it. He felt like a child on Professor Snape's chairs, his feet barely reaching the floor.

"Are you even listening to me, Potter!" Professor Snape snarled.

Harry flinched, and automatically said, "sorry!"

But couldn't quite hold back his next words, "don't call me that" then hastily added, "sir."

Professor Snape ignored him, "not only are you arrogant enough to try to manipulate me, and then lie about it, but you blame your ignorance and laziness on your relatives. They must be too in awe of your fame to be properly ashamed of you, to let you get away with acting so. Like father, like son," he sneered, voice full of loathing. "How proud he must be of you Potter, his son's behaviour and lack of manners, in his perfect image. You're just like your father, Potter" Professor Snape started in a snarl.

"I'm not my father! Don't call me that! I'm not!" Harry snapped, nearly shouting, as it all boiled forth suddenly.

"What?" Professor Snape spat out, surprised out of his anger, "it's your name! I will certainly not be calling you Gryffindor golden boy or the boy who lived." He sounded disgusted at the very idea.

"Potter! Don't call me Potter," Harry said, suddenly very tired and feeling very old, "it reminds me, and you, of my father. Neither of us need that!"

Professor Snape's eyes narrowed.

"It's your name, you spoilt twat!" He yelled back.

Harry was too angry to flinch, to be scared, to even think of anything other than desperately trying to hold his temper, "anything but Potter is fine! Hell, you could even call me Boy or Freak like my relatives do! Even that would be better!" he shot back, all attempts at holding his temper, suddenly shot to hell.

Snape just stared at him.

"Fine! You don't accept my apology? Fine! You don't believe me at all, about anything? Fine! But don't call me Potter. I. Am. Not. Him! You were right, you know." He spat venomously, "It galls me to say it, but you were gods be dambed right. My father was an arrogant snot. A bullying toe rag. I know he was horrible. He was no better than my cousin and my relatives i-"

Professor Snape cut him off, "don't. Lie. Potter!" so furious he was spitting, "we all know perfectly well you're a pampered, spoilt prince!"

"Sure! Really pampered! Really spoilt!" Harry spat, all his previously suppressed furry that had been slowly building since his name had come out of the goblet, spewing out of him at full force, "spending all day, every day working my ass off, blistering in the sun whether I want to or not! Whether I have eaten or not. Really pampered that is! Really spoilt! I'm treated like the Malfoy's house-elf, only to be locked up every bloody night when they can't stand the sight of me any more or want to forget I exist when they don't want me anymore! When they no longer have a use for me!" He could feel his nails digging into his palms. The pain felt good.

"Not that they wanted me to start with! They made that perfectly clear, every single bloody day!" he continued "I lived in a bloody cupboard for peat's sake! I'm not even allowed to own my own underwear! How fucking spoiled is that! So spoilt that before this place, an actual bed, hot water and access to a toilet whenever I like, was an unknown luxury!"

Harry didn't think he'd ever been so furious before. He felt like his insides were boiling. His legs shook, and his fists were so tightly clenched he didn't think he'd ever be able to unclench them or dig his fingers out of his surely bloody palms.

"I get starved and told to shut up and pretend I don't exist. I used to spend days locked up in the dark, wondering if I'd ever get anything to eat again. Now of course, they know the wizards are watching them so they just lock me in Dudley's second bedroom instead. Can't have the wizards watching the house catching on. Yeah, that's real fucking spoilt." Harry spat out almost screaming, shaking now.

"I am nothing like my father. My father is, from what I have read of his journal, and my mother's, a despicable human being, that was little more than a cruel and abusive bully. I'm ashamed to even be related to him" Harry continued viciously.

"I want nothing to do with him! I have no idea why my mother married him. He was a shit head. My Father was a swine! I want nothing to do with anyone who treats their peers like that. It's bad enough being treated like he treated you, at home by my relatives. I never want to be anything like him.

So screw you! I'm not my father! I'm not Dudley! What he did, I know what that's like! I never want to be like that! I'm nothing like Dudley! I didn't do it, I didn't- I'd never, I'm Not, I'm Not I-" but he clapped a hand over his mouth. Images of his father and Dudley blurred together again, as they had been all day. Dudley's horrible laughter echoing in his head coming out of his father mouth. He wasn't too sure where he was anymore.

"What did you say?" Professor Snape whispered, his face white.

Harry felt the colour drain from his face. He felt light-headed, He blinked, trying to focus on Snape and it came swinging into frightening clarity all at once. He hadn't meant to lose his temper like that. He hadn't meant to let that much slip.

He was always so out of control around Professor Snape. He always felt so alien, so angry, around Professor Snape. Harry stood there, frozen in terror. He had never meant to admit to another living being that he knew what his father was really like. He had never meant to almost admit to knowing what it was like to be in that position either, or that he knew what had happened. He'd never meant to so obviously confuse his father and Dudley. He'd never meant to admit he'd been in Professor Snape's position.

Fuck!

Professor Snape must have realised that he knew. He looked murderous. His harsh black eyes glinting wildly, "you know nothing boy," he spat out, so furious the words didn't quite come out right. It sounded more like a strangled hiss.

"Get out!" Professor Snape roared suddenly, spittle flying from his mouth, "get out and don't come back!"

Harry bolted, not even taking the time to hook his bag strap up around his shoulder before he made a break for it. All he could think about was Uncle Vernon yelling at him. He heard a jar smash against the wall on his way out, and the door slammed shut at his heels.

He tripped over his bag, hanging around his waist, jerked it up and ran as he felt something brittle and painful inside him break.

Why did he even bother trying to fix things? Adults were never worth it. First Dumbledore, then Mcgonagall, then Sirius and his father. Professor Snape was just another in a long list of adults to let Harry down. He should have known better. He pressed a bloody hand to his mouth.

Harry's last hope in adults shattered to pieces as he ran from the room deeper into the darkness of the dungeons, desperate to get away. Desperate to turn his heart off, close it down and never be hurt again.

0o0o0o0o0o0

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Bullying, trauma, assault, kids gaming up on other kids

Being stiped naked in front of others

Humiliation

Adults being assholes

0o0oo0o

OTHER END NOTE

Yes, this is actually important for plot development.  
You'll get the flower translation in the next chapter.


	32. Chapter 32 Severus's Epiphany

See end for some notes on the flower translation ect.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Severus Snape jerked a hand furiously towards the door, making it slam shut on the green-eyed menace fleeing his dungeons. He could barely contain the fury boiling in him, making his hands shake; mixing toxically with a familiar burning mortification. The brat knew! Potter's dunderheaded spawn knew! He knew and would use it against him and humiliate him, just like his misbegotten father!

And now it would be all over the school by morning! His shame! His humiliation. He grabbed the nearest jar and hurled it at the closed door. The jar was of cockroaches, (he kept especially for these moments.) They shattered, and the tiny brown bodies slid slimily down the door. He watched them go feeling slightly better, but still mortified, furious.

How dare he! He wanted to haul the brat back in there and make him scrub cauldrons until his fingers bled, until the day he died. How dare he play him! How dare he lie and manipulate him! How dare he treat him that way! How dare he know!

The brat was such an arrogant blighter, such a terror like his idiotic father. And how dare he know Severus's shame. How did the little blighter find out! Potter was dead and still he lived on in his son to torment Severus Snape!

He wanted to smash and break every jar in that room! He rained it in slightly and crossed to the door hidden behind the shelves in the wall behind his desk. He hurried down the tight spiral stairs behind the door and into his rooms housed below in the lower dungeons. It was blissfully quiet and deserted down there. He stalked across his rooms and out the door, exiting his rooms into the rest of the lower dungeons. It was even colder down there; silent. He stalked down a corridor, around a corner and into one of the old potions classrooms.

He didn't notice it was cleaner than it should have been for a long abandoned room, didn't notice the tables were freshly scrubbed, didn't see the fresh scorch marks. He would later. It would make him think later when he reviewed and sorted his memories of the day. Then it would make him think, make him go back and have a closer look. But now he dismissed it and let himself indulge in his fury.

Instead, he stormed across the room to grabbed the hearest chair, raising it over his head and bring it down with a crash. Upending the old desks, picking up chairs and throwing them, hexing every bit in sight. He let himself fume in a way he rarely allowed himself to. There are no potion ingredients down here, it was safe. Safe to smash things without wasting hard won ingredients and risking blowing up the castle.

He was humiliated and furious and mortified. He threw things and broke things only to mend them and wreck them all over again. It was hard exhausting work, trashing the place.

He was numbly aware of the wards around his office going off, but he dismissed it. They were warded to the high heavens. No-one would get in without his say-so.

He didn't want to be wrong! He didn't want Potter to be abused. He didn't want to have failed Lily. Potter was a menace, out to get him, use and humiliate him just like his rotten father! He didn't want Potter to be like him. Potter was an arrogant snot, and that made him justified in taking his resentment out on a child. It justified his harshness as Severus Snape never wanted to be the bully his masters wanted to make him.

He always resented Potter's carefree childhood and arrogance. And like Dumbledore said, he was the one who needed to teach the brat about the unfairness of life. But if the boy was like him... then that just made Severus Snape another one of a long line of abusers.

And he'd never wanted that.

Potter could not be abused.

He exploded the teacher's desk with uncontrolled magic, the likes of which had not escaped him in years. It rained shrapnel everywhere.

He wasn't a bully! He wasn't, he thought with furious desperation. He wasn't an abuser! He wasn't just like James Potter, Tobias Snape and Avery and Mulciber. He wasn't!

Was he?

He was a Slytherin after all. He knew where the line was and crossed it pointedly at times, but he never took it too far. Never.

Had he taken it too far? He'd been practically an adult at that age! He'd had a thick skin and had taken it any time an adult or child dolled it out on him. Why couldn't they do it too? If he had, they should have been able to! The little shits!

Had he miscalculated? Had he taken being a strict and harsh teacher, necessary for such a dangerous subject, too far? Had he become what he hated?

No, of course not.

He'd sworn to follow Dumbledore, to atone for not being able to keep Lily safe. He'd been fighting from the shadows for so long.

He'd wanted to do the right thing, to fight for the light, to be free. To do something right for a change. Had he got it wrong again? He'd just wanted acknowledgment. To be congratulated for once, but nothing he did for Albus was enough, and it always had to be the hard, harsh road.

Always in the shadows; forgotten and sneered at, loathed and condemned at with suspicion...

Was following really the answer when there was nobody trustworthy to follow? When no-one could be trusted with the safety of his soul?

He was so tired of fighting so hard all the time. He just wanted someone to sort it all out for a change. For it not to be him for a change.

He just wanted to get something right for a change.

He snared at himself for admitting the weakness, the need for approval he hated and had tried to squash out of himself since he had been a young child. It never got you anything but heartache.

Had he really been that bad? He looked back at his classes. What he thought was on the edge of reasonable, seemed less reasonable now. Longbottom, making that first year cry, the Weasley twins - they had talent, maybe it should be nurtured, even if they never brewed what they were meant to in class...

Goddess, what had he done?

And Potter, the little liar!

But her eyes, her eyes, her green eyes. They almost looked terrified on his face, almost looked hurt, lost as he'd ran from the room. But that story... so wild. It couldn't possibly be anything but a made-up lie.

But the boy never could lie.

So then...

There was a knock at the door.

He took a swift breath, drawing everything in behind Occlumency shields, boxing the raging emotions up tightly with a mere thought. He flicked his wand, before sweeping it across the room in a wide arch repairing everything and removing all traces of his meltdown.

"People don't often come down this far Severus," Filius Flitwick said, looking at him closely when he opened the door, "are you alright?"

"Fine" he lied shortly, "how did you find me?"

Filius raised an eyebrow, but said, "I know you better than you think, my friend."

Severus frowned but said nothing, so his colleague continued, "have you got a minute Severus?"

"Indeed," he drawled, taking a calming breath, "let us return to my office."

He led them back through the labyrinth that was the lower dungeons and back up to his office, avoiding crossing through his quarters.

With a quick flick of his wand, the jar repaired itself, and the cockroaches were back in their jar and returned to its place on the shelf. Hopefully, his colleague wouldn't notice.

"I gave those photos to her son, Severus," the small man said, as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

Severus winced, and pushed everything behind his Occlumency barriers even further, so not to take his pain, fury and mortification out on his colleague. He actually liked Filius. He was one of the few exceptions to his general hatred of people, as Filius was one of the few who were not complete morons.

"I didn't tell him who you were, though I wouldn't be surprised if he worked it out, Severus. He's very bright, like his mother, truly." Filius continued.

Severus scowled. The brat knew alright. But he kept his lips pressed together in a thin line, to stop the vitriol he wanted to voice, from escaping his mouth. Potter knew! Potter knew who he was and what had happened. He didn't know how, but he knew Severus's worst memory. One of them anyway, unfortunately, the bad ones were far more numerous than the good.

Fuck!

After a pause, he merely said, "he has shown me nothing but arrogance and is as much a dunderhead as his father was," he spat.

"Really, Severus? Or is that what you want to see?" Filius asked, not in judgment but in a thought-provoking tone, and despite himself, Severus found himself thinking about it.

"He asked me to pass on a message," Filius started again, "he was so shocked when he pulled out the stack of photos from the envelope I put them in. He stared at them for a full 10 minutes, his mouth gaping." Fillips glanced up at Severus now his eyes bright.

"He was acting very queer today, very formal almost with cold detachment," Filius continued, a frown marring his face.

Severus looked up sharply at that but said nothing as Filius continued, "actually, like you were as a child occasionally. But he looked at those photos as if they were something sacred, something to be revered. He looked so much like her then, Severus. He was so grateful to have a few pictures I thought he would cry. Honestly, I get the impression his parents are never talked about at home, and he did say no-one talks about his mother. He asked me about her. He's coming for tea regularly, picking up her old tradition. To hear about her." Filius paused for a moment, surveying Severus.

Severus frowned but did not sneer in disdain at his colleague. Filius was smart. He may disagree with him about the Potter brat, but Filius always saw things a little differently. Severus often attributed it to his half-goblin nature, but his insights were usually spot on. He scowled.

"He asked me to pass on a message," Filius continued.

Severus held back a wince again, "he said and I quote, 'please sir, please convey my deepest, most sincere thanks to her friend. I am very grateful.' He meant it, Severus. It seemed odd, even from what I know of him. I get the impression he is not nearly as spoilt as the Prophet implies. He handed them back to me, Severus. He honestly expected me to take them back! He almost fell off his chair when I said they were for him to keep. It was as if he is not used to getting anything. It was very odd. Minerva was no help when I asked her about his home life either."

"What do you mean his home life," Severus snapped, "the little blighters treated like a prince. He cannot lie to save his life, and no-one grows up abused without learning the ability to lie," Severus finished bitterly.

"I'm starting to doubt that Severus," Filius said, "and it is hard to lie to a gifted legillimens, but anyway. I will leave you to your potions. I just wanted to pass on his thanks. He truly was very grateful."

Severus did not really notice him go. Too caught up again in that look of terror in her green eyes as the boy had fled the room. Could he have been telling the truth?

He pulled out his pensive. It was a dirty bribe of a gift from a dirty colleague. If not for the sheer usefulness of the item... he didn't want blood money. But, needs must. He pulled memory after memory out of his head, watching them swirl in the pensive, with slight trepidation, his lips curled into a familiar sneer of derision.

The boy couldn't be abused. He would have noticed from the start. And as if anyone in the Wizarding world, least of all Dumbledore would have let their precious golden boy be anything but a spoilt pampered brat!

Occluding his mind of all things Potter, he took a moment to look at it with an unbiased eye, as if the boy was one of his snakes, just to prove himself correct. Surely he would see just a spoilt arrogant brat...

Abuse would explain much though, especially if he really was kept ignorant as he claimed, but surely not... Not Lily's child. He never missed an abuse case. Even Longbottom, he had noticed within the first week. The boy was so cowed. He'd gone straight to the boy's Head of House, after demanding the boy had a health check. He was clean, just emotional abuse, and there was nothing Snape could do about it when he wasn't the boy's Head of House.

Snape could keep the boys history in mind, but he would not pander to anyone, would not relax his high standards for anyone. The boy had to learn to chop ingredients right and stop blowing things up!

But... No, the Potter boy was not abused! He would have seen it. His head started to throb, and he plunged his face into the pensive.

But... as he watched memory after memory of his interactions with the Potter brat, his sorting, his first Potions class, Potter failing his test to see if he were more like Lily or his father, the shrieking shack, the opening and leaving feasts, glimpses of Potter in the halls, in classes... it was not painting a good picture now that he examined them carefully.

He had been so tiny back at his sorting. The hat had dwarfed him, completely covering his head. The boy had a cold look of terror on his face now that Severus really looked at it. His face had been completely blank at first. He had brushed it off as arrogance, over-confidence, boredom even. But now Severus looked, it was a cool neutral mask that automatically covered the boy's true feelings of sheer terror and desperation. Severus knew that mask. He saw it himself in the mirror. And what did it say that an 11-year-old had managed to perfect that which had taken him years? Why was the child so scared? Sure, everyone was nervous before the sorting, but terror? What had been going on in that boy's head.

The boy had been far too small and thin to be a first year! He looked about 7 or 8. And really, even now it wasn't much better, Severus thought. He was still scrawny, underfed and undernourished... and his parents had been tall. Potter, the elder, had been irritatingly well built with little effort and Lily had always been naturally curvy. Their son should not have been so tiny and boney. Severus really thought he needed a few good meals, not that the boy ate much. Severus had dismissed it as being used to being pampered and being a picky eater.

But that couldn't be right... the boy should not be so small, but he was, as if starved and stunted. Which meant he may have had trouble eating... He'd need a good nutrient potion to build him up again. But come to think of it... nutrient potions had consistently been missing from his stores this term... He narrowed his eyes. That little thief!

Severus kept looking. Their first potion class showed next. He, Severus, had looked so furious, and he had been. He had been furious that he would have to deal with Potter's son. But looking back now, the boy had done nothing but take notes. And wasn't that embarrassing? He, Severus Snape, a teacher, had yelled at him for that! Sure the boy said nothing when Severus baited him to see if he'd react like his father. Sure, he had failed Severus's simple questions, proving he was not like his mother either, not bothering to read in preparation for class and had been unable to see Severus's hidden message. But now, he caught the familiar flinch and look of terror from the boy as Severus watched himself yell.

It was hidden well, hidden by carefully shown anger, behind a well-practised careful mask. But it was there. And Severus had not seen it for what it was. He should have, but instead had taken it for childish defiance and arrogance. Why had he not seen it. And why did a child so young have such a well-honed mask?

Why had he not seen it? He was the head of Slytherin; the house with the most abused children. He was the one other heads came to for guidance when they found an abused child in their house and didn't know what to do. How had he not noticed? Why had he not noticed? He always noticed.

Then, the troll incident. Potter falling to the floor from the trolls back just as they all came rushing in, as the troll fell. Now he looked, Potter had been hurt. There had been a wince as he hit the floor feet first, his ankle rolling. But as soon as the teachers had entered, Potter had stood up straight, his face blank and walked without even a limp.

Surly, the child, was not that good an actor. No-one was that good at hiding pain unless they had years of experience. And why would he? Unless he really was abused? Unless he really had spent years hiding his hurts, for fear of making them worse. He, Severus, knew that trait too well. No, it couldn't be... not Potter.

He looked at another potion class, his potion had exploded, and Potter didn't even flinched as he got burned, just tugged his too big sleeve down to hide the burn and kept on going, as if it had never happened. As if he was used to that kind of thing. But how could he be..?

Every time Potter's potion exploded due to a Slytherin, mostly Malfoy, tossing an ingredient in, every time Severus was forced to blame Potter not the real culprit for fear of jeopardising his position, Potter's eyes hardened, deadened, and he seemed to get smaller. But he did not look at all surprised. Severus squeezed his eyes shut as the memories kept playing. Potter had expected the treatment. And didn't that speak for itself?

Potter jerked every time he was touched, every time something startled him, or moved too quickly. His extraordinary reflexes seemed less an annoying gift that made him too much like his father, and now, now Severus saw them for what they were. The survival skills honed painstakingly over the years of abuse. Fuck. They were the skills honed from years of necessary practice, simply to stay alive and 'safe.'

Severus got a cold sick feeling in his gut as he saw himself in the boy's eyes. He knew that walk, knew that fear. The fear of discovery that would only get you beaten more. He saw that familiar distrustful look hidden behind the carefully faked childlike mask on Potter's face whenever he was around an adult.

That inherent distrust of adults, Severus knew it so well! But he had mistaken it for stubborn arrogance, for malice! How had he been so blind? How had he been such a moron! He was a man that prided himself on his intelligence!

Potter noticed everything, he was coming to see now, another thing Severus was familiar with. That exhausting hyper-vigilance that was necessary to keep one safe when the whole world was out to get you.

He looked too, for the boys supposed ignorance; slight confusion at some of his instructions, confusion at certain words, phrases or actions. It was glaringly obvious now, the boy had known nothing. He was meant to have been tutored! To be ahead of his classmates!

How could he have been wrong! He had been so confident in his belief that the boy was a lazy bully like his father! Had treated him as such, done his job to take the boy down a peg or two.

But he had been wrong! It was inconceivable!

He pulled out of the pensive and was nearly sick. All this time. All this time he had seen the boy as his father, as the reincarnate of Severus's own abuser, or one of them. When in reality, the boy was too much like himself as a young boy. Too ignorant to be anything but unknowingly arrogant and rude.

He had always assumed the boy was a moron. Too lazy to bother, but if he'd been kept in the dark, deliberately... He would have only had half the cards, no wonder he got bad marks. It would certainly explain his sudden sharp improvement.

Though, while Potter often messed up his potions, they very rarely, if ever, exploded dangerously. That actually took some talent. He knew the Malfoy brat often tossed things in his cauldron, to try and make it explode. Oh, how Severus would love to be able to give that brat the string of detentions he deserved for his dunderheaded murderous pranks. The dunderheaded-brainless-spineless-fool!

Could the Potter boy have been deliberately getting them wrong? Was the boy actually in possession of even a spec of his mother's intelligence? Even his ingredient prep had improved. The boy now used the same method as Lily had used for brewing potions, the method he, Severus, had taught her.

He sighed.

So the boy was telling the truth. He had been ignorant. He had realised the errors in his behaviour. And now Severus could see it all, he had no idea how he had missed it. Was he really so blinded by his loathing for James Potter that he missed the signs of an abused child? An innocent child? Lily's child? Lily's child who he had sworn to protect?

Severus' stomach heaved suddenly, and he was sick all over the stone floor, only just missing his desk. He was shaking, badly. He hadn't lost control that badly in years.

The fact that Lily's son had been abused and he, Severus Snape, Lily's best friend! The boy's protector, and an abuse survivor himself, had not seen it, had done nothing, and had been no better than that abusive bullying git, James Potter! Severus heaved again. He had become no better than his own tormentors, his own father who he had sworn never to be like.

He stumbled backward under the force of the realisation, landing on his ass in a totally undignified manner. He clamped a hand over his mouth to try and stop himself from being sick for the third time as bile filled his mouth again. His head spun as his world cracked open on its side.

He had let her down. He had let Lily down. He lad let Lily's son down. There was a sickening twisted feeling, aching in his gut. How could he ever atone for that? There was already so much blood on his hands! His best friends death on top of it. Goddess forgive him! What had he done!?

And if the boy was abused... and looking at it now, the schoolyard scuffles the boy had gotten into, what Severus has assumed was Potter bullying others, seemed a lot more like Potter being bullied. The incidents in the corridor with Malfoy; yes the boy was rude, but did he actually start the fights? If he was abused, and shied away from people like he did in the memories, now that he really thought about it, why would he start a fight?

He put his head back into the pensive. No, the Potter boy never started it. Malfoy did. Weasley did. The other Gryffindors did, but Potter never started it. Sure, he often gave as good as he got, but he never started it, and recently tried to stay out of it. Bugger!

He pulled his head out of the pensive again. In which case, he had, most recently unfairly taken out his anger at not only Potter but also on Granger that day with the teeth. He had been out of line, both to be angry at Potter for something he could now see Potter hadn't started, and wrong to take it out on Granger, by insulting her when she needed medical attention.

What had he become? He never would have done that before? Not when the irritating child reminded him a little of Lily, even if Granger was a bit more of an in-your-face know-it-all. And Longbottom too. The child was a walking hazard and a dunderhead but... The boy was more cowed than he should have been...

But did he really care if he was a bastard to the little snots? No! Of course not? Why should he care? They were not his problem. It was not his fault they were idiotic imbeciles and dunderheads that never bothered to do anything right or open a book for once in their sorry lives. He could not abide by idiots.

They deserved everything they got...

Didn't they?

Did he care?

Lily's son...

What if it had been Lily? He'd never do that to Lily? So why anyone else?

Why did he care? He didn't want to care. Caring meant hurt, and hurt meant he'd done something wrong, and was again in the wrong. He just wanted to get it right!

He didn't want to care, he thought bitterly, caring never brought anything good.

He didn't want to bloody care!

...

But he did.

He swore viciously. At great length.

Of course, he did. He didn't want to be a bad person. He was a bad person, tainted by years of stain, but he didn't want to be, he never used to be a bad person, had always considered himself, not a nice person, but a good one. What had happened? When had he stopped caring?

What had gotten into him? This was not like him. Yes, he had always been a strict and harsh taskmaster, often grumpy and irritable and on the whole, had an unsuited temperament for teaching. He had little patience. And they were all dunderheaded brats and deserved everything they got, but he had never been cruel, never stepped over the line of abuse. Not like this. This wasn't him...

Was it? Was he really as much of a bastard as his father?

He didn't want it to be. He'd been fighting all his life, to exist and to survive, and had made so many mistakes he was left continually trying to atone for. What had gone so wrong? What had he done this time?

He thought back to the nonsense the boy had written on his homework.

'If you asked me about Asphodel and Wormwood, about Monkshood and Wolfsbane; I would say I would add, White Tulip and Eglantine Rose. It would give you a Daffodil Yellow potion if you were to add a sprig of Purple Hysinthea and a Star of Bethlehem.'

He'd thought it more of the nonsense that often spewed from the boy's mouth, none of those things made any useable potion! But now... Now it made sense, now he remembered why he chose those particular questions to use on him specifically that first day. A silent secret apology... 'I deeply and bitterly regret Lily's death.' A test, to see if Potter was enough like his mother to recognise it for what it was.

He'd never expected anyone to figure it out, not really. It had been their secret language, Lily and Severus, as a child. Looking at it now... especially with what Filius said about Lily's book...

'I forgive you, and absolve you of your guilt. Let that pain be healed. I offer you deep regret over my own actions, and I offer you reconciliation if you would accept it, though I am uncertain whether you will at all.'

The boy had been prepared to forgive him so that the guilty wounds of Severus's soul may heal, to tentatively reconcile. He swallowed. The boy didn't know the half of it. He did not deserve that. It was his fault that she was dead at all.

Filius was right. He was like his mother. Lily had had an enormous capacity for kindness, except when she was furiously angry, then she could hold a grudge. How had the boy gone through so much and still been left with a kind heart? Severus certainly hadn't managed it. His own childhood had left him cynical, bitter and hateful. Lily would have been so disappointed.

But the brat had been willing to forgive and start again. And now he'd blown it.

Lily's child. The last of his best, and only friend.

It was over.

Severus put his head in his hands and wept with the shame of it. He wept over his lost friend, wept for letting her son down so badly, for contributing to all the things that had broken her son. She'd be so ashamed of him.

"By the Goddess, Lily, I'm so sorry!" He moaned.

He recognised the look on the boy's face as he had left. That look had said everything he needed to know about the boy's faith in adults or complete lack thereof. That was the 'I don't know why I ever bothered thinking I'd ever get any help from an adult' look, the 'there is no hope for humanity' look, the 'I'm on my own, I'm never trusting or relying on anyone again,' look.

"Fuck!" He yelled, hurling his fists against the stone wall.

He needed to fix his wrongs, but how could he? He was again, stuck between another rock and a hard place. Doomed either way.

Fuck! He thought again.

But how could Severus help the boy, mend fences, without giving himself away?

Did he even want to? He maybe Lily's, but he was still a Potter too, he thought viciously, trying to keep hating the boy, trying to not care. But then he saw the look on the boy's face again, her green eyes, wide in terror and pain. A look he, Severus had put there.

Lily's son, how could he not?

And that was the problem, wasn't it?

He did care. He had been blind before, but now he realised he did care. He cared too much, and it would probably be the end of him. Lucius Malfoy, the upstart French bastard, had Severus by the balls. One toe out of line and the asshole would whisper in the Minister's ear, and he'd be back in Azkaban. And Dumbledore would not come and rescue him this time if he wasn't useful to him any more as a spy. Dumbledore would not rescue him this time without a cost, and Severus had nothing left to give, nothing left to pay with but his own blood and the price of his soul.

He sighed, rubbing his left arm hauntedly. It was getting darker. Soon he'd have to go back and grovel at the Dark Lord's feet to get his role as a spy back. If he pissed Lucius off, the ass would spin tails and make every tiny move Severus made look like a betrayal to the Dark Lord. One word from Lucius, and Severus would be dead or under crucio until his brain turned to mush. And Dumbledore would not try to save him, not when he was just another expendable pawn.

If Lucius wiped his hands of Severus and whispered either to the Minister or the Dark Lord when he returned (and there was no doubt now that he would), then Severus couldn't spy on Voldemort anymore.

Dumbledore would let him rot either in Azkaban or forgotten in a ditch somewhere tortured into insanity by the Dark Lord. Dumbledore was happy for him to keep being an asshole. Dumbledore was happy for him, wanted him to act like an evil Death Eater to maintain his spot as the faithful spy. The fool!

Why though? It couldn't be just that? Surly a supposedly ex-Death Eater would be more successful playing the part of recovering defector? Trying to play the part of a good light soldier? What was Dumbledore's game? What was he really using Severus for? Dumbledore was making him act like an evil Death Eater.

He wasn't, and if he was a Death Eater spy, surely a good spy would play the part to fool the opposition. So why did Dumbledore want him playing the part of a cruel Death Eater? It served him no purpose other than damning Severus in both side's eyes. Doomed to always be distrusted and condemned. Such a stupid play. What did Dumbeldore want? Why did he want Severus damned and isolated?

What was his play?

If Severus got too close to Potter, the students that were loyal to their Death Eater parents would tell, and the Dark Lord would no doubt find out, and expect Severus to bring the boy in, to his death.

But if Severus got cosy with Potter, Dumbledore would find out, (it was enormously difficult to keep anything from the nosy old fool). He would dislike it and while Dumbledore didn't curse his slaves like the Dark Lord did, he could make their lives subtly difficult and he still held the threat of Azkaban over Severus' head. He'd made it only too clear it was only his word keeping Severus from being shipped back to that hell hole.

A rock and a hard place.

Both masters had a vicelike grip on his balls. The Bastards.

Either way, he was doomed. Doomed to a life of misery and sin. He was going to hell. His soul damaged and damned to all eternity. There was no way out. He would doom himself if he continued, now that he knew, if he didn't try and right his wrongs, but if he did, he would be doomed by his chess masters.

Oh, Hekate forgive me, he thought bitterly.

He crossed the office and down the tightly spiralling stairs behind the hidden door to his chambers, and crossed to an alcove cut into the stone wall above the Fireplace.

Hidden safely behind wards was a floating incense burner above a tall green candle. In front of the candle stood a black statue of his goddess. Hekate. He used a knife to prick his finger and smeared the blood on the base of the statue in offering. The magic crackled. He lit the candle and placed a little honey along with sage and mugwort onto of the charcoal disk in the innocence burner. It crackled and popped as it ignited and started to smoke softly. He watched the tendrils swirl and coil. It was hypnotic. Is familiar smell soothing.

His pressed his hands either side of the statue, closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the smooth stone before her feet.

"Hail Hekate Queen of the Witches, Queen of the Night," he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut, "may your torch and keys guide me, as I choose my path at these crossroads. May my weaknesses become my strengths, and my failures, my teachers. Lend me the strength and wisdom to choose the right path. Hail Hekate, the Crossroads, the Magi Queen, lend me your guiding light, for I am desperately in need."

How would he help the boy without no-one knowing? Was Potter a good enough actor for Severus to tell him the truth? And all of it? He scoffed, of course, the brat wasn't. He was a hopeless lier.

But he paused, no, the boy wasn't hopeless. He'd hidden much for a long time... Could Severus trust the boy, a mere child with information that could be his damnation? Could he trust it would not get out, that the boy could keep that secret?

Dare he?

Dare he not...?

He stood there for a long time, staring at his goddess, watching the candle flame flicker, and the incense smoke coil.

0o0o0o0o0o

END NOTES:

On the use of the term Witch.

In this case witch is a gender neutral term. While the modern Wizarding world uses witches for females and wizards for males. But in Darke Culture and the Old ways, witch is gender neutral. It's an old term for magical that follow the old religion and practice the old magics. Before the modern ministry it was a gender neutral term. It is only in these more modern times that the world wizard was started to be used to specifically refer to males of the craft.

Many pagan practices today use Witch to refure to both males and females of the craft.

Flower translation:

Snape: I deeply bitterly regret Lilly's death

Harry: I forgive you, let it be healed. I would offer you deep regret and an unserten reconciliation if you would accept it.

Also Snape's rooms are actually down a set of spiral stairs leading from his office, to the lower dungeon bellow.


	33. Chapter 33 The Darke

It's summer solstice down under, so I'm giving you all an extra chapter this week in celebration!

Happy Summer Solstice to all by Southern Hemisphere brothers and sisters! And Happy Winter Solstice to all of our Northern brethren.

0o0o0o

Harry didn't remember of going back to the cupboard. He didn't remember disarming his wards or re-arming them. He didn't remember getting changed and crawling into bed around his warm jar of bluebell flames or pulling his mum's blanket tightly around him, over his head.

In fact, in the morning, when he woke up surrounded by books and completed homework and study notes with little no recollection of studying at all. He felt cold and exhausted, and empty.

He must have studied, he wouldn't have been able to sleep after that. So he must have studied. Because school work was safe. Safe and predictable and cold. School work he could manage. Schoolwork stopped his mind thinking. Anywhere was better than being in his head. So he must have done it. And while he didn't remember it, the names and dates in his notes felt familiar now.

He must have worked late into the night, falling asleep on his books, but he didn't feel rested at all.

Now that the first task was over, Harry had given himself a week off before he tackled the egg. He'd buried himself in his reading, studying and other projects like working on his trunk, working on the protection wristbands he's been toying with, writing to Bill and Charlie, studying traditions and etiquette as well as the Goblin books. This proved a good distraction from everything over the weekend. And the books Greengrass had recommended, when he'd retrieved them, were fascinating. Much better than the intro books. It was a bit of a relief to just burry himself in normal things for a change.

Harry spent most of the morning huddled in his cupboard, with a hot jar of Bluebell flames in his lap, and plenty of blankets around his shoulders, studying. It was almost December, and the lower dungeons were getting colder and colder. He could constantly see his breath in the air now and had taken to casting many warming charms over himself all the time, so he stayed toasty and warm. He'd decided to keeping a jar of Bluebell flames with him at all times now and had taken to wearing layers and layers of clothing, along with a scarf and gloves everywhere he went. It also had the added bonus of hiding bruises and marks leftover or still healing from the bullying, and hexing.

Thought it was Saturday Bill wouldn't be at the shack until after lunch, some curse having escaped the night before, keeping him up late. When Bill did met Harry in the shrieking shack, however he immediately said, "Send Charlie a proper letter, will you? He's worried about you, he sent me this."

He pulled a note out of his pocket and handed it over. Harry winced, cursing his transparency. He didn't want anyone to worry. He didn't want anyone to notice, to see, to see him.

"Bill,

You see Harry on Saturday, yeah? Give the kid a hug for me, will you? He needs it. No matter what he says, he needs it. There's something he's not telling us, and he's shut down. I'm worried. Talk to him please? Or bring your mirror so I can, or just get him to write about something more than books, will you?

Love ya bro,

Charlie"

Harry frowned, his eyes prickling, betrayingly. He scowled.

"I'm fine," he said, "really! It's just hard sometimes. I'm okay."

"Really?" Bill said, "because I agree, your letters were off this week."

"I'm okay," Harry replied in what he hoped was a voice more confident than he felt.

Bill opened his arms, but Harry shook his head, his jaw clenched, "if you hug me, I will cry. I don't want to cry. I have too much to do," He mumbled, pulling out his notes, "I may never stop." He muttered to himself more quietly.

Bill sighed, but said, "he was worried about you on Wednesday too, he told me about both of your meltdowns."

Harry nodded, "I fell asleep on him too," he admitted to Bill, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, and deflecting.

Bill chuckled, "yeah, he's a bit like that."

Harry smiled weakly, "best sleep I had all month. I'll be fine though."

Bill snorted, but Harry changed the subject, "oh, I have your birthday present here too! I won't see you tomorrow so I thought I'd give it to you now!" Harry exclaimed, pulling out a thin package from his bag.

"Thanks, Harry!" Said Bill with a grin, "you didn't have to though."

"No, but I wanted to," Harry said, letting Bill hug him very briefly.

"Can I open it?" Bill asked eagerly, poking at the paper, childishly.

Harry laughed and nodded.

Inside Harry had wrapped one of the sharp flint daggers he had made. He had made a smooth handle out of horn and wrapped leather from a squirrel he had caught in one of his snares and had used runes to instil the blade with strength to never break and an ever-sharp edge.

"Brilliant Harry!" Bill said, carefully testing the blade's edge, "where'd you get it?"

Harry smiled proudly, "Firenze is teaching me the ways of the forest. He taught me how to make them."

"You made this?" Bill asked incredulously, "they are teaching you? Willingly?"

"Yes on both counts. I'm very lucky. We have a mutually beneficial system in place." Harry explained.

"Well done. This is a really brilliant knife, thank you," Bill said hugging Harry tightly for a moment.

"So," Harry said, pulling out his books, "before we start on everything else, can you look over my warding notes? The ones on my trunk were broken into. This is what I've done to make them better."

They spent the afternoon picking away at his new warding project after Harry had reluctantly admitted the wards on his bed had been broken too. They went over various detection spells, some for checking objects like Bill used for Cursebreaking, and some for testing things for poison and spell work in food and drink.

"Now how's your Occlumency travelling?" Bill asked when they'd put away Harry's notes, "having any luck finding the heart chamber through meditation?"

"Not much luck overall. I still can't feel my magic, but I'm starting to get a sickly squirmy sensation inside when I try to feel it now. I think it's stopping me getting to the heart chamber." Harry explained.

Bill hummed for a moment, "okay, keep practising. I didn't expect you to get it straight away. I think you'll get there. The blocks are just making it harder. But not impossible. Keep practising feeling you're magic and sinking into your mind. The more mental and magical self-awareness you have, the better."

Harry nodded, "what will I do if I get cornered by Dumbledore though? I won't know if he's using it on me? His magic is so powerful I won't really realise he's doing it. It's overwhelming, and I can't feel spells interacting with me anyway."

"The best we can do at the moment, other than not being alone with him, and not meeting his eye, is working on other techniques of mental discipline to keep him out," Bill said pulling a book out of his pocket, resizing it and flipping thought it.

"If possible, it may be best to try and restrict your thoughts around him. Try to push things aside and not think about them too hard," Bill started, "I know it's hard but if you're not actively thinking about it, the thoughts will sit deeper in your mind and be harder to get to without you noticing."

Harry nodded, thinking of how he often pushed aside emotions, "that sounds do-able. Can we practice that focusing thing we tried last week?" He asked, "where you focus hard on one thing?"

"Yes, how'd you go with it?" Bill asked.

"Okay," Harry said, "it's a bit like meditating. It's hard to do other things at the same time, though." He said

"It is. Ot helps when you can access the heart chamber, you can withdraw your mind inwards and keep the outer mind focused on one thing as an outer protection." Bill explained, "keep practising it. it will help you with finding the heart chamber, and your mental discipline, which is what Occlumany is all about."

"So I guess it's a bit like muggle mindfulness?" Harry asked, "you want to be present only in the moment, not in the past, or in the future, but fully focused on the moment at hand and what you're doing. That way that is the only thing taking up your outer mind and that's what anyone will see if they go nosing about." Harry hypothesised.

"Exactly." Bill said, "once you have that, it's easier to find and retreat to the heart chamber and Occlumency gets much easier from there."

Harry nodded, and they practised that for a while, Harry focusing hard of different things, a crack in the floorboard, focusing intently on writing out the alphabet, imagining he was flying, staring at a point on the ceiling, on his own breathing, all while Bill used Legilimency on him.

Some worked better than others, and the more they practiced, the better he got. Not that he could tell how successful he was, but he was finding it easier to focus intently on one thing, or just focus only on what he was doing, and not thinking of anything else at the same time.

It was also rather stilling, rather grounding. He liked it. It wouldn't stop people getting in, but it would keep them from seeing anything too incriminating if he was careful.

It still left him with a headache from the strain, but when Bill told him he had improved afterwards, and to keep up the good work, he felt oddly pleased. Since when had he cared for others approval? He'd never gotten it before, but it was... nice?

"Right," Bill said, moving on to the next thing they had to go over that afternoon, "so the Slytherins will be teaching you etiquette and how to act like a lord?"

Harry nodded, "we start next week, but they wouldn't talk about what the old ways are and I can't find any books on them yet. No-one talks about it."

"Right. Let's look at that then," Bill said, after a moment, an odd quality in his voice, "we'll leave etiquette to them for the moment and look at culture and traditions."

"You've heard of Paganism in the muggle world?" Bill asked wondering where to start on the huge topic that was wizarding religions and the old ways.

"yes," Harry said, "read about it in the library in primary school. My relatives hated the word magic, so I tried to read all I could on it. Paganism is an umbrella term for many nature-based religions that often worships several gods and goddesses. Muggle Witchcraft is a big part of that, but it's different. It's a lot more about intent only and less about magic like we have. Their Witchcraft is gender-neutral as well, they're all witches. I wanted to be a witch when I was a kid. I wanted to work magic and make my world a better place, like they talked about in the pagan books."

"Well, modern muggle paganism came from the ancient times before the statute of secrecy, and came from the old magical religions." Bill explained, "everyone here used to be called witches too until politics came into it hundreds of years ago, and they decided it was too feminine for a male to be called a witch." Bill shook his head in mild disgust.

"Here in magical Britain, many people have turned away from being actively religious despite it once being a big part of magical practice and everyday life. It became less popular during the rise if Gridalwald and people started seeing the old ways as dark or evil as Gridalwald was."

"The old ways are not only referring to the old basic traditions and etiquette of the Wizarding world. They also refer to the old religions and practices of worshipping of the land and magic that we have followed for hundreds of years." Bill went on, "it's changed a bit over the years, and while it's not as popular as it once was, and it is still important. But it's also complicated." He paused.

"Complicated like quidditch is?" Harry asked, "As in, it's actually relatively straight forward but people think it's complex, or complex as in its actually quite convoluted and there are many different factors."

Bill laughed and said, "the latter one. Now there are a few sides of it. There are the old ways and the Darke. Then, there is the Lyght. But it's not that simple. The old ways are not always referring to the Darke, though you cannot have Darke, without the old ways. But you can have the Lyght without the old ways however."

And you can't explain the Darke without also explaining the Lyght." Bill went on, "and while politics enters into it, it's a belief system, with traditions. It's a way of life. It is not politics. Though it does influence politics and there are political factions named after them.

Now, today most people are neutral in terms of Darke and Lyght. But Neutral is very similar to Lyght. The Lyght believe that in the beginning there were duel deities, magic personified. They made the world and watched over it. Then they gave their magic to wizards. Magic is a gift from the god and the goddess.

"Huh?" Harry asked frowning, "so are those gods still around?" he was not sure he liked the idea of gods, especially not if they were like the ones in the mainstream muggle religions that he'd read about in primary school. Those gods seemed to have conditions to their love and seemed so controlling and manipulative. At least the god's churches and books did.

"It depends on how you look at it. They are still worshipped by some, not all, but they're not active beings that control or do anything today according to Lyght beliefs. It is more that they became the magic in people. Magic today, the tool we use, is a bit of the creative force that made the universe and holds it together. That's what makes us wizards, special." Bill said. "That is how the Lyght differs from the Neutrals. Neutrals do not believe in a god or goddess. Of any kind."

"And do they follow nature worship like the pagans?" Harry asked curiously pulling out a notebook and pen.

"Not so much as the Darke. In the old days, the 8 seasonal festivals worshipping the natural cycles were a big thing across the board. Not so much now, at least not by the Lyght. Now it has been rather muggle-ised or 'modernised,' by the Ministry, to the point of outlawing the old celebrations. They've done what the early Christians did to the pagan festivals. They replaced them with more 'modern,' festivals on the same date, to force everyone else to 'toe the line.'

Mostly it's now just celebrating Christmas, which was once Yule, Halloween, which was once Samhain, and Easter which was once Ostara. Some of the others fell away and were forgotten by many. Some were replaced with other smaller celebration that have little of the old magic left in them." Bill explained sounding sad.

"There are still links to the older traditions, but most are very subtle and have fallen away; like the use of mistletoe at yule, having a fire which is remnants of the yule log tradition and easter eggs are remnants of the celebration of life that is what Ostara is all about." Bill said.

"But there's more to it than that isn't there?" Harry asked after a moment, pausing in his note taking.

"Well spotted," Bill said, and Harry hid a pleased smile, as Bill continued, "now the difference is Magic and the way people view magic."

"Really?" Harry asked, "how? And how does that affect the holidays?"

"Well," said Bill, "the Neutrals and the Lyght practice and believe that magic is drawn from within. Say the words and an incantation, and magic is drawn from within, shaped by the words and the incantation to make things happen. It's a set pattern, an algorithm, an equation that is the same every time. It just uses will and internal magic to make the set patterns work.

The Lyght and the Neutrals use set patterns to cast spells. They do not create. One may use arithmancy in spell creation, to find undiscovered patterns but you're discovering what is already there, not creating from scratch." Bill specified.

"They do not use emotions to do their spell work, occasionally joy when necessary for the pattern, like the Patronus. They don't admit it's Darke. They shun any magic too chaotic or too powerful. So no blood magic, rituals are few to none and no sacrificial magic. Magic is calm, controlled, and a tool. It does not feel, it is not sentient. It only exists in the capacity to obey wizards."

Bill then looked at Harry to gauge his reaction. But Harry was frantically taking scribbling.

"Getting back to the holidays," Bill began again, "they used to have important magical rituals worshipping the natural cycle of the world that revered magic. Now the Lyght don't believe in any of them or their importance and the ministry outlawed them in one of their bids to get rid of the Darke.

So the old festivals and ways fell out of practice. While the Lyght observe much of the magical etiquette, they see many of the old traditions and practices as unimportant. So the Lyght, in some sense, follow some of the old ways, when it suits them but not the full extent, and they will nearly always deny it. The Lyght see etiquette as old and outdated, but not the old ways. The old ways is not a term the Lyght really uses or acknowledges. They will often shun any mention of the old ways."

Harry, still taking hurried notes, looked fascinated. He paused and thought about it all for a moment, then said, "that sounds sad. But if the Lyght believe magic is a pattern or a formula, not a living thing, what about magical creatures and plants?" He asked, "they're living, and magical. How can they think magic is so cold and wooden?" He asked with a puzzled frown.

"Yes, there are some things that are magical, plants and the like, but it's a different magic from wizard magic, and is still a cold tool, not sentient." Bill explained

Harry frowned, "really? That doesn't make any sense! Magic is magic, of course, it's not cold and unfeeling!"

"And that is what the Darke believes." Bill said, "but, a warning, Lyght is the most prevalent practice and political faction today. The Darke is highly frowned on and is very taboo. It's not talked about, and even the suspicion of being Darke can cause trouble for people, as can the old ways as the two are very closely linked." Bill warned

"Really? Why?" Harry asked, thinking of the reactions of the Slytherins when he had asked about the old ways.

"Well, to understand that, we need to look at the Darke," Bill said, "The Darke, the old ways, are less popular now. Even in Pureblood circles they are fading, with less true believers. The old ways are followed, but there are few truly Darke followers. The Darke draw on internal magic and external magic. The Darke believes that magic is in everything, and it is the universal energy that is in and connects every living thing. (The Lyght merely believe magic is a special type of energy, not that it is in everything.) We believe that it's one and the same."

Bill seemed to wince at the slip, but Harry ignored it (temporarily) and said, "that makes more sense."

Bill gave him an appraising look and continued, "sometimes emotions, will and desire, powers a spell. It's not necessarily just words and intent, though power comes into it too." Bill said, "Intent is super important. Sometimes you don't always need incantations and wand movements. The Darke create. To the Darke magic is more. It is alive and passionate and is a living thing that connects everything. It's the very fabric of the universe that holds everything together." Bill explained, getting more passionate. His voice held reverence, Harry noticed.

"To the Darke, Magic is sacred and sentient, to be respected at all times," Bill went on. "There is only one type of magic, the energy in every living thing. Muggles cannot feel it, Squibs can but cannot wield it and Wizards feel it and wield it. As do other things.' wizard magic, centaur magic and house elf magic are the same. It is all just magic just used and felt differently, same with plants."

"The Darke doesn't necessarily think Muggleborns are trash, but they are naturally weary as they often do not respect the old ways and muggles have historically treated magical's appallingly. That is where their distrust comes from." Bill went on solemnly "another reason the Lyght disagrees with them."

"unlike the Lyght, the Darke sees that magic is sacrifice; be it in energy, or in blood sometimes, or in life, the way your mum gave hers to save yours."

Harry sobered instantly, "she said in her letter, she was Darke, that it was wonderful, but to be careful."

Bill nodded understandingly.

"You're Darke aren't you," Harry said curiously, cautiously.

Bill looked at him for a long minute, "that is not something you ask someone. It's not something you talk about either, except with great digression with those you trust impeccably. It's too risky. But yes. It's not something my parents approve of. And it's something I keep very quiet. I could lose my job, have my home searched for the slightest suspicion, be arrested as a suspect on trumped-up charges. It's pretty serious, Harry. I mean it."

"Oh," Harry breathed, starting to realise the enormity of the trust Bill was placing in him, the risk he was taking even teaching Harry, "sorry. I don't really understand yet why it's so dangerous."

"Well it's like being in Slytherin," Bill said, using the unpopular house as an example, "a few horrible wizards gave that house a bad name, so they're now all seen with more suspicion. They are often punished more harshly, and their actions are judged more harshly and seen automatically in a less positive light. They're always the first to be accused and even when or if, proven innocent, they are still viewed with distrust."

Harry thought about it a moment, "so if people know someone is Darke, they'll automatically think Darke is evil. That it's dark, immoral or that you're doing horrible things, especially is the Darke have beliefs in regards to sacrifice. I bet people will jump to conclusions about that too."

Bill nodded, "just so. Blood magic and sacrifice may not always be harmful, but it has, like anything, the potential for misuse."

"So people frown on it and distrust it." Harry surmised.

"Yes," Bill said, "especially since Gridalwald misused it, and fucked things up for all of us."

"So he gave the Darke a bad name and Voldemort probably didn't help. Was he Darke too?"

"No, but he was dark, and extremest. I'll get to that later. It's different," Bill said.

"So because of them the ministry shuns it and tries to do away with the old ways, making the lives of any Darke practitioners very difficult," Harry guessed, "they could use it as an excuse to lawfully harass you, find reasons to fire you, fine you, arrest you on bogus charges..." Harry said his mind going wild, "be more likely to take bribes and find you guilty even if you're not. They could extend your sentence just because you see magic as the wonders thing it truly is. they could really be horrible to you and get away with it."

"Gasically," Bill surmised glumly.

"Bugger," said Harry, "I won't tell anyone, I promise. No wonder the Slytherins were so dismissive."

"Right." Bill said, "the Darke is actually a tiny community now. Most people know each other, so it's hard to 'get in,' now if you're not born to a family."

"Professor Flitwick lent me a book on it," Harry said slowly, "I meant to read it, and my mum had a book on it too. I'll have to look into them. It sounds really interesting." Harry said and really interesting felt too mundane a word for it.

"Glad you're looking at it with an open mind," Bill said, "let me know if you have any questions."

"What if I'm Darke? Will people know? Will they hate me for it? Because if what you said is true about beleifs, then I am Darke." Harry said, worry bleeding into his voice.

"Don't say that lightly Harry. It's a big deal," Bill said sternly but not unkindly, "don't be too hasty to make that choice. It's a big decision and not one to make on a whim. Once you make that choice, it's like an oath. It's hard to change your mind later. It's very serious. Don't set yourself up to be an oathbreaker."

"Oh, okay, sorry," Harry said feeling uncomfortable.

"Hey, it's fine. You're learning, no-one expects you to know everything strait away. You have every right to question, explore and make mistakes," Bill said slinging an arm around Harry and pulling him into a brief half hug. Harry had to suppress the urge to snuggle into his warmth, "if you do decide to join us, you'll be welcome, but don't take it lightly, and make sure you're doing it for the right reasons." Bill advice.

"Ah, okay, thanks," Harry said thinking a long moment before saying, "but back with the Lyght and their odd view of magic; magic just feels the same," Harry said, "has no one that is Lyght ever felt it? Even I realised that my magic feels the same as a mandrake's magic or a house elve's. Sure it's slightly different, it's clearly elf magic or plant magic, but it's still energy, still magic" Harry said curiously.

"It's not a common gift, being able to feel magic," Bill said, "it's also possible they didn't want to believe that either."

"Now politic wise, there are factions in the Wizengamot supporting different sides and different agendas. There is a faction for the Lyght that follows most of the politeness but does not see the importance of the old traditions and practiced. That's mostly the ministry at the moment. They shun anything Darke and the old ways and err on the side of Lyght and modernising.

There is the Neutrals or the Grey which is neither Lyght nor Darke technically, but err on the side of Darke as it's too dangerous to be openly Darke since Voldemort and Grindelwald. They are traditional followers of the old ways, worship magic, often practice the old religions and customs and believe in magic being sentient. They do not always shun Muggleborns and half bloods. They are all for integration, but the old ways are important and need to be taught first and foremost, as magic is sacred." Bill explained

Harry nodded and guessed, "then there are Dark and Light? The extremists?"

"Exactly," Bill said, "Voldemort, if you can guess, is a Dark extremist. He is all for magical supremacy. The Dark are big believers in etiquette and customs, when it suits them. Which essentially also weakens our culture. They hate muggles and Muggleborns. Darks are not actually that big on the Darke, more just power and supremacy. The ass holes." He added, making Harry giggle.

"Light is basically Dumbledore. Shunning the old ways, the Darke, and the Dark. They believe the old ways, the traditions, the festivals, should be done away with, and the muggle ones should be integrated instead. The muggle ones are better and more modern. They don't have a problem with Purebloods but shun the old ways, Pureblood culture and the Darke and any magical traditions."

Which prompted a further long discussion on Wizarding religion, how gods played into it, and the various beliefs and festivals practised. It was fascinating and enrapturing, and Harry felt like he could sink his teeth into it and belong. Especially when Bill lent him a book on the different gods and goddesses and why people chose to dedicate themselves to one or more.

Many of the old religions that had died out in the modern muggle world were still practised in the Wizarding world and had never really died out. Many wizards believed in a deity, though it was becoming less common, now that the ways of magic and the culture and traditions were not taught in school. Sadly it was becoming more and more common for whole family to forget about the gods and the old traditions.

In no time at all, it seemed, it was time for dinner and Harry was dreading going back up to the school to face everyone. But Bill was pulling him into a hug and he didn't resist this time, just hugged Bill back tightly for a brief moment, hanging on as if Bill was an anchor in a stormy sea, enjoying the warm tingly feeling it sent along his skin.

Harry pulled away shortly, reluctantly, but feeling a bit better than he had before. Not much, but a bit. He fought the urge to sniffle and resolved to write another letter to Charlie that night.

"Keep in touch. Keep working on your Occlumency. Hang in there okay, Harry?" Bill said giving him a second one-armed hug before he disillusioned himself, flew out of the shack's attic window and disapparated.

After Bill left, Harry went back to the Dungeons. He slipped through his wards and spent a good while updating them with the improvements that he and Bill had hashed out, and used a good bit of blood around the door. Hopefully, that would be enough to keep almost anyone out, he thought, as he pulled out his blankets and bedding from his bag. He wouldn't say it was warded tighter and safer than Gringotts, but Harry was pretty confident that it was now close.

He cast a strong cushioning charm on the floor over where he slept, then laid out his blankets and pillow in a little nest. He kept all his school books in his bag still, and his bow and weapons, but put the rest of his clothes on the shelf. His photo album and the little dragons from the task were placed on the shelves above the little door. The little dragons seemed rather pleased to be out of the bag.

He lined his other books upon another shelf, put a stronger alert ward on the door, and then for good measure, on each end of the corridor. If anyone else came near, he would know. He was safe here. His things were safe, he thought with a satisfied sigh, drawing back into this cupboard. It looked a bit more like home now. Especially now Winky had prepared and returned his mother's blanket. It really brightened up the place.

He smiled, stroking a hand over the blanket. Winky had cleansed it of the magic used to break it, had repaired the subtle soothing and warming charms his mother had put on it, then carefully had sown it back together leaving it looking just as it had before. Harry had been so grateful when she'd returned it that she'd burst into tears when he hugged her.

He glanced around the cupboard again and looked at the shelves on the right of the door. With a flick of his wand, they had been reinforced and looked more like a wooden ladder in the wall. The cupboard really was very tall, enough that you could probably stand three of him end to end and still have headspace.

He climbed up to near the top and transfigured some shelves into planks to make a 'floor' and a 'table' so he could use it as a brewing area or a desk. He cast a ventilation spell on the ceiling, for good measure and smiled. Yes, this was the perfect place, really.

He pulled out his notes and Moste Potent Potions, instead of going down to dinner. The purging potions were both in there, as Rodgrip had implied. They were, Harry thought, two of the most complicated potions Harry had ever seen, including the Polyjuice potion.

Luckily both the spell purging potion and the potions purging potion had the same base, and each potion had three parts.

The base was made in two parts that were brewed separately then combined.

There was a healing component and a poison component. The healing part was distilled moon water and powdered unicorn hair and one scraping of a unicorn horn. The poisonous component was aconite root and burning bitterroot syrup. Both were made at the same time and brought to the boil, and after boiling for an hour, it was left to simmer overnight.

Next, they had to be combined. They had to be poured into a new caldron, in a careful steady flow over 3 minutes while stirring twice in a widdershins direction, and once in deosil direction in a continuous pattern.

It then needed to simmer for a week, continuing stir two widdershins and a deosil every 12 hours. It could then be put under a status spell, to freeze it if need be.

The middle part was likewise the same for both potions.

Boil; Moon dew petals, unicorn tail hair, Dittany, Holly ash, Basilisk skin shredded, Billywig stings, doxy eggs, for 2 hours in a fresh cauldron. Leave simmering for 4 days until black and gelatinous.

Then add to the combined base. Do not stir. Put immediately under status, until ready to combine with the final component. Of course, if you were making both potions, the ingredients had to be doubled.

The last component was where they differed.

For the spell purging potion, you then boiled in a separate cauldron, elderflowers, distilled hazel syrup and 3 adder fangs all in adder blood. It then needed to simmer for 63 minutes. It could then be added to the combined base and boiled for a further 2 days before it was finished. It had to then be bottled while scaldingly hot, or it would lose its potency. It could only be placed in glass viles, not crystal.

The potions purge was made of peeled and chopped arnica root, yew needles chopped boiled in honey water boiled for exactly 36 minutes, before being added to the base and boiled for a further 2 days. Again it had to then be bottled while scaldingly hot. It too could only be placed in glass vials.

They both then needed to placed outside overnight, in view of the moon, for different lengths depending on the phase of the moon. 3 drops of his blood would need to be added after removing it from the moonlight to each vial.

Harry sighed. It would be a lot of work, and by the sounds of it, taking them would not be at all pleasant. But thankfully nearly all the ingredients were available in the student store cupboard or easy enough to gather in the forest, (or from the Chamber of Secrets.)

Harry had taken to keeping his eye out for the useful plants and potions ingredients now whenever he was in the forest. Sometimes with Hermione on a run, though not always as he now moved his runs around his time in the forest with Hagrid and Firenze.

Firenze was always pleased with his offerings and Harry was happily surprised about how many potions ingredients he could source in the forest alone. He had found enough unicorn hair last week by accident alone, to make both the purging potions.

The problem was, finding the unicorn horn it needed to be used as a stirring rod. Harry didn't have one of those and could not afford one.

Harry scowled but set about noting down the brewing schedule and set off, before curfew, to collect the ingredients he needed from the student store cupboard and the Chamber.

A he headed back to his cupboard much later that night, he wondered if curfew really applied when he was no longer welcome in the common room? When he was an outcast on his own? Did it matter when he was alone and safe on his now in the abandoned lower dungeons. Probably not. As long as no-one noticed. Which they never did.

After that Harry ate a very late dinner alone in his cupboard and buried himself in his mum's and Flitwick's books on the Darke. They were fascinating and by the time he looked up it was three in the morning, and he'd finished them both. Feeling more than ever, that the Darke might just be home.

0o0o0o0o0

I have not read (or watched) Fantastic beasts (either of them) or cursed child (and I'm not going to.) So I am not going to go into Grindalwald, or what actually happened, just what we know of it from the HP books. So if I deside he used Darke rituals to harm other to gain power, then he did.


	34. Chapter 34 Slytherins

Harry spent the following morning in the forest with Firenze and Hagrid. It was a blessed relief to be out of the oppression of the castle, and a much-needed distraction from all Harry's worries about Gryffindor, Snape and his father. He was so incredibly tempted to just walk deep in to the forest and never go back. But he didn't. He wasn't quite sure why, but he didn't.

Firenze and Harry had spent a productive morning training vines over a creek deep in the forest. The Centaurs had long been training branches and trees to form living bridges over rivers and streams deep in the forest. It was brilliant and somewhat etherial, and Harry was enjoying immensely all the forestry he was learning.

He'd had asked Hagrid about Unicorns, mainly how wizards got their horns to use in potions without actually harming them. He was relieved to know that they were usually shed every five years and that one could obtain horns without harming the beautiful creature. Hagrid wasn't sure any were due for a shedding, but he was scheduled to check to the unicorns later in the week, so they'd be able to see then.

Back in his cupboard for lunch, Harry set about beginning to solve the egg. He dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around the golden egg and curiously prised it open.

It was hollow, completely empty, and the moment Harry opened it, the most horrible, loud, screechy wailing, filled the room. The nearest thing to it Harry had ever heard was the ghost orchestra at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party, who had all been playing the musical saw.

Whipping out his wand, he shot a silencing charm on it and the noise stopped but did leave his ears ringing. Despite having silencing wards, he stayed frozen for a long time, listening for footsteps in case someone had heard.

When no-one came, he peered closely at the egg. It felt magical. But it looked like just a hollow bit of brass. He peered at it carefully, and cast a bunch of detection spells on it, cursing himself for not doing that first.

What came back was confusing. It did not have any runes on it, but the arithmancy showed it had sophisticated magic on it. It was so complex he didn't really understand all of it. And if Bill hadn't shown him the more advanced curse-breaking spells, Harry would never have managed to extract the arithmancy on the eggs at all! If he was interpreting all the numbers and equations right, it looked like someone had tried to capture a verbal message in the egg... But that couldn't be right. It didn't even sound like any sort of message, and he couldn't make sense of the equations enough to figure out how to translate it or figure out what sort of noise it was.

If anything it sounded like a banshee... unless it was a language? But what language sounded like screaming? Maybe he had to decode the noises? Or maybe it was music that had been distorted in some way? He set about testing every kind of revealing and detection charm on it he could think of and even tried a Reparo incase it was broken, but it made no difference to the horrible screeching sound.

He'd have to hope it was a language, and did have Flitwick's book on languages, he'd have to read it. He showed it to the twins after they finished their duelling practice, later that evening. For some reason Hermione hadn't shown up, Harry was getting worried. The Gryffindors had taken to hexing her as well, because of how vocal she'd been siding with Harry and disagreeing with them.

"That's horrid," said Fred, his hands over his ears still, "sounded like a Banshee."

"I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing... maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Harry" George added

Harry snorted and said, "no, thanks. I thought it may be a code or a language message we might have to decipher?"

"Could be," George said, grabbing a book.

"Looks like we'll have to do some research mate," said Fred.

"Research what?" Hermione said, stepping into the room.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, seeing her face. She had what looked to be the beginnings of a spectacular black eye, and her hair seemed somewhat frazzled.

"What happened to you?" He asked.

"Have you been fighting them again?" asked George, looking closely at her back eye.

"Over the un-horsing," Fred said for Harry's benefit, while wordlessly tossing a jar of salve to his brother.

Hermione winced as George put the salve on her eye and sighed.

"It's not right what they're doing." She said fiercely, "and anyway, I punched Angelina first, so I guess it's only fair."

"Good on you!" Said Fred

"She deserved it, turning on our star seeker like that," muttered George darkly.

"Just wait till she puts on her quidditch gear next," Fred said with a grin at his twin. Harry wondered what they'd done to it, but decided he didn't care, he just hoped she was sorry.

"Hermione you don't need to do that," Harry said pleadingly. He hated seeing her hurt because of him.

"Yes I do," she snapped glaring at him stubbornly.

He sighed, but saw the conviction and burning belief in her eyes and said, "then I'm teaching you to fight. So next time, you'll be able to keep yourself safe from their fists when Magic is not enough. I'll teach all of you."

Hermione beamed at him, and said "now what are we researching?

"The egg. It screams," started Fred,

"We think it's a language or code," said George.

"I looked through this one this afternoon, it's not a Banshee. They scream, but their spoken language is different. I haven't gotten very far, but the book doesn't demonstrate what the languages sound like, which is really annoying," Harry said, wondering if the room had a book that did demonstrate the sounds.

And so, they spent a rather frustrating few hours trying to crack the egg, before Harry started to teach them to fight and protect themselves the muggle way. Harry was a bit rusty, but it was more fun than talking about the un-housing.

Harry kept avoiding the great hall that week. Especially after Monday when he had, for an idiotic moment, forgotten and tried to sit at the Gryffindor table, only for them to bunch up leaving no space. He glared at them all, and went down to the kitchens instead to have a quiet word to the Dobby and Winky, who then talked to Tippy for him. If Harry had talked to Tippy she would have had to tell Dumbledore. But if Dobby and Winky did it, she could keep it a secret.

The Gryffindors would be having a lot of Brussel spouts and all of the least popular foods served to them for a while. Their pumpkin juice would be a little too sour for a while, their tea always a little too cool. It wasn't much but it was a small act of rebellion that he knew would be kept from Dumbledore's ears.

That and the hot water in Gryffindor tower would be on the fritz for a while. Never anything reliable, or anything that would be caught, but enough to be really annoying.

Harry's subtle plan of revenge had the twins, and the elves in stitches. And he left the Kitchen feeling a bit vindicated. Which was just as well, as it was the only thing that kept him going though Monday.

The situation with Gryffindor had reached a hexing point by Monday night when he had, after his friends coaxing tried to return to the common room. He was hexed so severely he turned tail and ran as Hermione and Neville were bullied into staying put.

Fuming, he went back to his cupboard to patch himself up. Screw the point loss, he decided. He wasn't eating in the hall, and he wasn't a Gryffindor any more. What should he care about their house points if he didn't turn up to their meals? He spent the week avoiding people and used his newfound understanding of etiquette and manners to keep people at a polite distance. He avoided his classmates and his teachers, being unfailingly respectful, with perfect manners. It worked.

He was the last into class, sitting at the back (now that he could actually see well enough to not need to be in the front) and was the first to leave, practically bolting from the room. He travelled the halls in the invisibility cloak and used as many secret passages, and snake passages as he could.

Harry also avoided Professor Snape like the plague, giving the man no reason to call on him, or notice him at all, even went so far as to use a notice-me-not charm a few times.

McGonagall didn't notice anything had changed and Harry wasn't sure he was relieved, disappointed or unsurprised. So he avoided her too. Along with all of the teachers except Hagrid, and he even avoided Professor Flitwick, whom he had been almost getting on with.

Hermione, Neville and the Twins were all furious but he pleading with them to stay away and stay safe and went out of his way to avoid all of them. Hermione, in particular, was furious at their house, and at Harry for trying to protect her by staying away. Hermione was still arguing with Gryffindor, trying to get them to apologise. She was researching into the unhousing and was in a state of irritation and despair over the library's lack of recourses on the matter. Which did nothing to improve her temper and made her vicious in her return hex's, and she'd even started helping the twins help prank their disloyal house in retaliation.

Harry was careful to make sure no-one saw them with him. They were having a hard enough time in Gryffindor at the moment without him there to make it worse. At their insistence he still studied with Hermione and Neville when doing homework, the duelled with the twins on weekends. But he was extra careful to make sure no-one saw him, not wanting Gryffindor to give them more trouble. He kept running with Hermione in the morning, around the times he was in the forest with Hagrid or Firenze, and Neville had taken to joining them a few mornings a week as well.

But, as a whole, Harry spent most of his time when out of class, either in the forest or alone in his cupboard studying. It was almost less lonely like that. At least when he was by himself, it was by his own choice, not because most of the castle was shunning him and hated him. He was used to his own company. It was the only company he got back at his relatives, expect for Hedwig once he'd gotten her.

His isolation, coupled with his insomnia did give him plenary of time to explore when he needed a break from studying like a mad man. Having the lower dungeons to himself, he'd started there, before working his way through the upper dungeon too. Armed with his cloaks, his map, his wand, and the spells Bill taught him, along with Parseltongue, Harry found all sorts of good hidden things. In fact, he had a sneaking suspicion that the castle liked him. Sometimes he wondered if it was trying to tell him something.

He'd found and met all sorts of unusual ghosts, who not used to have someone to talk, to had all sorts of interesting stories and tidbits to tell him. Some of which led to other castle secrets. There was a whole host of odd and unused rooms for all manner of things. He found a set of abandoned offices, classrooms, bedrooms and bathrooms. Bathrooms with enormous clawfoot tubs that Harry was desperate to try out. He'd never been allowed a bath at the Dursley's, and the Gryffindor tower didn't have any. Only showers.

The bedrooms were dusty and unused but looked comfortable enough, but Harry thought after a lifetime of using a cupboard, he didn't want to sleep in a bedroom. It was too open, too exposed. Better to stick with a cupboard where he belonged.

The other room he found in the lower dungeon was an Oubliette. A terrifying and heavily warded against magic, Oubliette. An Oubliette that set off Harry's claustrophobia strait away. The floor was slippery and slanted narrowing down to a was very narrow, shaft, not enough room to sit down in. By the looks of it, from where he was above it, If he fell in, he'd be trapped It would be impossible to get out of without a rope or help. Just looking at it set off racing breathing and panicked sweating, at the mere thought of being trapped in there. He shut the door of it and layered as many wards on top of it as he could, in an effort to make sure he never accidentally ended up stuck in it. It was truly horrible and for a moment, it made him question ever feeling safe at Hogwart's.

But then there was the Castle, warm and dozy like a cat napping in the sun, nudging him gently, and a snake carved into the wall hissing at him in a friendly sort of manor. For a snake anyway.

And that was another thing he'd noticed. All the snakes he was finding carved into the dungeon walls. Once he'd found one, he started noticing them everywhere. Some looked like they were decorations, most were small and relatively hidden, and somewhere so tiny they looked like mere cracks in the stone. Though, it being a magical building, Hogwarts didn't have any cracked or damaged brickwork. Now he was aware of them he started seeing them all over the castle.

Once he started finding all the little snake's, he wondered what they were there for. A range of revealing and detention spells showed that what he'd first assumed were just decoration, were instead a whole host of entrances to many secret passages as well as doors, rooms, odd closets and cupboards. He found an old forgotten kitchen, old duelling chambers that still had wards, old potion classrooms and cupboards with rusted old caldrons and mouldy forgotten ingredients Harry didn't even want to touch, several old store cupboards with moth-eaten forgotten supplies, and a few broom cupboards.

Most of the passageways were, like the Slytherin common room, just a patch of wall with a small snake on it. Some were behind portraits or tapestries with snakes in them, some were even hidden inside normal secret passageways. Some snakes were even carved onto torch brackets that you had to pull alone with a Parseltongue phrase.

Most of the snakes opened to just the world "open," in Parseltongue. But many of them, even the tiny ones, seemed capable of conversation and pretty much all but the tiniest could move, though they left an impression where they originally were, like a shadow.

And didn't that open up a realm of possibilities?

After much experimentation, Harry discovered a whole network of snake passageways weaving all through the dungeons. But it wasn't just within the dungeons.

He found passages leading out to the grounds or to different parts of the school, including the Room of Requirement and the Chamber of Secrets and all over the school. There did not seem to be a bit of the castle they did not touch, and Harry longed to find a way to put these on the map too. The passages seemed to reach every corner of the school from the lowest and most forgotten corner of the dungeons to the tallest tower, and, to Harry's great pleasure, into the common rooms. It was neat seeing what the other houses common rooms looked like.

He also stumbled upon some very small passageways and small rooms that he thought may belong to the house elves. They were all small enough he couldn't stand up in them and had to crawl instead so not to hit his head. The small rooms were equally short and were no bigger than his cupboard back at the Dursley's. He learnt to avoid those ones after almost being caught by Tippy a few times.

These new discoveries were a great help to Harry, however, and it consequently made him almost impossible to catch when not in class as he now very rarely used the typical secret passageways, shortcuts or corridors. Why would he when he had his own set of passages, that no-one else could access, where he was totally safe from being hexed or seen?

He'd also managed to make, with the help of some arithmancy, a rune circle to brew on that acted as a passive shield for his potions. Malfoy was still trying to blow up his cauldron, and while he was getting better at potions now he was working alone, it was harder to watch everything at once. He'd had a number of near misses where his potion had almost blown up, and it was only his quick use of Bicarb soda that saved him from being at the centre of an exploded cauldron.

The ward was powered by blood and was drawn on the underside of a piece of leather. He placed his cauldron and flame on top of it and was pleased to see it not only shielded it from anyone other than him adding ingredients but also contained any explosions. It was brilliant, and as it was not active magic, which Snape had banned in his classroom, he could still use it.

It was a pity that wanded magic could sometimes interfere with potions, or more so that Snape didn't trust any go them to not screw it up. But then with Malfoy, Crab, Goyle and Neville, in the class, one malicious and the others just terrible at potions, Harry didn't blame him.

So he used his wards to protect his cauldron. The brilliant bit was that any ingredients Malfoy did try to throw into his potion just bounced right back. And wasn't that satisfying to watch. The first time it had worked, it ended up right back in Malfoy cauldron instead, blowing it up in the blonde's face. Luckily for Malfoy, it was harmless as he was a few steps behind Harry. If it had landed in Harry's cauldron, it would have scalded him rather severely. Harry was pleased to see that it resulted in Malfoy getting a detention for a change.

While Hermione didn't quite approve of Harry skirting the 'no magic in the potions classroom,' rule, she didn't say much. It was following the letter of the law, not the intent so Hermione, just asked how he'd done it instead of telling him off.

"That's really advanced magic Harry! How did you do it?" She'd asked in an excited whisper.

"Nah it's not, my runes and arithmancy are self studied. I'm loads behind you guys," he'd replied doubting his skills.

She'd shaken her head but didn't argue with her self-deprecating friend who had no sense of self-worth what so ever.

Harry also managed to come up with a timer. He'd been researching time turners and time magic and had came up with a rune scheme that he could draw on his hand to time his potions with. It was again, as runes, passive magic, so it didn't interfere with the potions, but let him get his stirring and other precisely timed things done correctly to the second.

Harry used a brew he'd found in his mum's book for invisible ink, that only the brewer could see. Again, Hermione thought that using a book with notes in it, that edited the original instructions was cheating. But at least she knew his mother was trustworthy. She frowned at him when he'd shown her and explained how it was cheating. But again, she did not press it when he disagreed, knowing how much it must mean to her friend.

He had taken to using the invisible ink on all his potions related rune work on his brewing mat, and hands so that Professor Snape wouldn't notice.

Snape did notice but wasn't sure what Potter had done. He just saw that it wasn't active magic like he had forbidden, so he dismissed it as one less exploding caldron to watch out for. He was reluctantly impressed.

The other plus side to the isolation and insomnia was that it gave him extra time to work on his runic projects, to his great delight, including the fireproof shirt. He was still having trouble powering it without blood magic.

The shirt was a conundrum. When he took away the blood powering it, the rune scheme worked to protect from fire, but after the initial charge up, it needed to be able to use the fire to recharge itself and be self-sustaining. Otherwise, the user would be continuously exhausted from powering up such a heavy runic array.

Harry had the rune's and sigils working already. He just needed to add or adapt it to be self-sustaining. The fire rune was the charge, balanced with the ice rune to keep it from burning the wearer. He wanted to use the fire rune as the charge, but if he wasn't careful, the shirt would heat up too much. What he needed was some sort of rune circle for climate control. Or maybe he could use the heat that shirt still absorbed as power?

He'd not yet managed to perfect the sort of self-sustaining rune scheme he'd need in the shield bracelets, but he had a base for it. So it took him several goes in an unused classroom to find a few that would work and not blow up in his face. He ended up with 4 potential possibilities that he thought would work. But he still had to combine all the elements, and make sure they also didn't blow up.

In the end, he ended up with several runic circles he had to combine together. There was the original fireproof scheme, along with its power scheme. There was then the rune circle that controlled the temperature of the shirt, and then there was the circle that, hopefully, would draw power from the heat of the fire it was shielding against and funnel it into the runes to keep the shirt charged. In the end, he linked the three rune circles around the original power circle.

He ended up with four prototypes that he managed to test out with normal magical fire. It worked well enough. One blew up in his face after it overcharged. So he set to work again, trying to work out what to do with the excess power. If the runes became too overcharged, what would happen to the excess? Could he make them glow? And use that to bleed off the excess power. But maybe on the inside of the shirt? So not to attract attention?

Despite his exhaustion and general misery, he was rather pleased.

Harry started his lessons with the Slytherins on Wednesday night and was relieved when, unlike Hermione, they did not question his polite and cool manor. They seemed pleased by it, and the hours after dinner before curfew passed painlessly in a sea of manners, deportment and practice and explanations of how to be a lord. It seemed that the girls were happy to have a pet project and were very pleased to have someone to mould into the perfect Slytherin gentleman.

The boys it seemed were interested in seeing how it panned out and how they could use that to their advantage. This was something Harry was aware of and didn't mind, The Slytherin boys were happy to chip in as it got them Harry's tutoring in Defence.

There were a lot of rules. The Slytherin's explanations were to the point and easy to follow, but also reasoned out why things were the way they were and how it all worked. Hierarchy was subtle and convoluted, but important and affected most interactions within certain circles, as did the people involved, the occasion and sometimes even the location.

There were several different ways to bow and curtsey, along with full bows, half bows, head dips and a series of nods, and complicated hand gestures. Some of which accompanied certain bows to say different things.

The use of each bow and gesture and the message it conveyed was equally complex and convoluted. It was complicated as hierarchy affected it, as well as, who you were with and how many people you were around, if you were in public, or in private. There were many ways to deliberately snub people in varying degrees, and just as many ways to do it accidentally such as bowing too deeply to one person and not to another, or not using their full and complete titles as the situations and occasions dictated.

This also meant he had to learn all the important people in the Wizarding world, at least in Britain, in Hogwarts and in the Ministry, so he knew how to properly bow and greet them and what their titles were.

It was complex. They answered all his questions and didn't seem to judge him on his ignorance, they clearly thought it a crime.

As promised, in return, he started showing them the Patronus charm. They were diligent students and it was not an unpleasant way to spend a few hours. He was mildly surprised by how much he actually liked them, and how much they didn't pry. It was rather painless, all in all.

And that wasn't the only friendly experience Harry had with the Slytherins that week. He was studying in the upper dungeons one afternoon. He'd wanted more floor space to spread out his notes and things, but if he were honest, he was just using it as an excuse to be near people. He was feeling a little lonely, and wanted to hear other people about. He'd set up camp in one of the dusty old potions classrooms and had all his WEA study notes spread out on one of the large brewing tables. There was a one-way silencing charm on the door, to stop any noise he made getting out, but still allowed him to hear the occasional noise coming in.

He'd spent all afternoon flitting between different subjects on the WEA curriculum. He was working on ancient studies and alchemy at the moment. It was rather intriguing. He was surprised by the correlation between alchemy and potions and also the correlation he could see between his etiquette class and his ancient studies and the Darke. It was captivating, so much so that he didn't notice the door open until he was startled by a sudden, "oh, sorry!"

There were three first-year Slytherins standing awkwardly in the door way.

"Well met," Harry said mildly.

"Well met," one of them replied, "you're not a Slytherin second year." She said almost accusingly

"Course he's not Astoria!" Another said, elbowing her friend.

"We were looking for one of the second or third years," the boy added, "we need help with our homework."

"Well I'm not a second or third year, but I was nearly a Slytherin," Harry said conversationally, not wanting to spook them, and no longer feeling ashamed of it. Now that it was out. After the disaster in the common room, he was no longer a Gryffindor, and the whole world knew he was nearly Slytherin. He and Luna had needed up putting together an article about the history of the houses, and the animosity between Slytherin and Gryffindor and how Harry was almost a Slytherin. Hopefully it would help diffuse things when it came out in the Yule edition of the Quibbler.

"Really?" Astoria asked, only to be elbowed by her friend again.

"Yes," Harry said calmly, "I can help you with your homework if you don't mind it being me, though."

Astoria's eye's narrowed, and her friend asked, "what's in it for you?"

Harry looked at the boy a moment and asked, "are you related to Nott? In fourth year?"

"He's my older brother," the boy said, "I'm Thaddeus."

"Well met Mr Nott, Ms Greengrass if I'm not mistaken and..." He looked at the last girl.

"Goyle," she said, "Alice Goyle, Greg's my brother."

"Well met Ms Goyle, I'm Hadrian Evens."

"Wait," cut in Astoria, "aren't you Harry Potter?"

"Yes, but Harry is actually short for Hadrian, which I prefer, and my family name is Evans-Potter," Harry explained.

"Why introduce yourself by a mudblood name, when you have a Pureblood one?" Thaddeus asked, not in a malicious way, but more with the innocent confusion of one who repeated what their parents said without really understanding it.

Harry bit back a sigh and said mildly, "I'd prefer it if you did not use that word in my presence, Mr Nott, have a seat," he gestured to the chairs on the other side of his table.

They looked at each other than sat down.

"Why?" Alice asked.

"Think about it," he said simply, "how would you feel if someone called you that?"

"But I'm not!" She said

"That," he replied, "is not the point."

She frowned and Astoria said, "I guess I wouldn't like it very much, I'd be angry, but probably just because it hurt."

"Exactly, very perceptive of you. It's not nice to call others names, especially to say someone has dirty blood." He explained, "My mum was a Muggleborn, my grandparents are muggles. They did not have magic, but they were good people. Mum was a good person and died to save my life. My father, however, was a Pureblood and was a nasty bully in school. With is why I don't like using his name."

They thought about it for a minute, "but don't muggles have different blood? Isn't it dirty?" Alice asked.

"What colour do you bleed?" Harry asked, "when you trip and skin your knee or if you slip when preparing potion ingredients, what colour do you bleed?"

"Red," said Nott as if it were obvious.

"If muggles had dirty blood, you'd be able to see it, right? It would be a different colour? Brown, for example, like mud?" Harry questioned and they nodded, wondering where he was going.

"Well my cousin Dudley, is a muggle," Harry explained, "like my mum's parents. I have 2 muggle grandparents and a Muggleborn mother, yet I bleed red," he said, taking a knife and making a small nick on his thumb and watched a bead of blood well and dribble down the pad of his thumb.

"If muggles have dirty blood, you should be able to see it." He held up his thumb to show them, "Which means my blood, with has muggle blood in it, would look different too, right?" Harry reasoned. They frowned but nodded in agreement with that logic.

"But my blood looks the same as yours, doesn't it?" He said, "and my muggle cousin, he bleeds red too, same as us."

They frowned, but Astoria said eventually, "that makes sense I guess. But people say muggles are dumb and that we're better. So what does it matter if we call them names?"

Harry considered a moment, "For one, it's hurtfull. They're people with feelings just like us. They're just different. They live differently to us. They don't have the gift of magic that we do, so they need to do things differently to make up for that. Some of us may not understand all of what non-magical do. It's easier to assume they're stupid to cover our own ignorance. They're not stupid. Well, my cousin is, but not all of them."

Alice giggled, and he went on, "We're all not so different, them and us."

"I'm not like a muggle!" Astoria shrieked.

Harry just said, "we live. We breathe. We hurt. We laugh. We feel. We are all made of energy, which holds the universe together..." He paused, wondering what to say.

"What do you mean?" Thaddeus said his eyes narrowing, rather like his older brothers had.

"Magic is in everything, and it is the universal energy that is in, and connects every living thing. That's magic. Sure, muggles cannot feel it, see it or use it and they have no magical core, but they are still made of energy. They cannot harness it like we can. They use it in different ways, electricity, with machines, but we're all made of the same universal energy. That's what magic is made of. So are we really that different?"

There was a weighty silence then Astoria glared at him accusingly, "you didn't answer our question!" She said.

"Yeah," accused Thaddeus drawing his wand.

Harry placed his hands upon the desk, in a sign of peace, "I don't really want anything from you. I am not offering to help you to get something, but if it makes you feel better, I'll help you in exchange for your silence on my presence in your dungeon."

The three of them exchanged looks, before nodding and pulling their book out of their bags. They spent a peaceful few hours, Harry working on his own projects between helping the first years with their charms and transfigurations homework when they needed it.

He liked helping them, he found. He liked teaching them and they seemed to not mind that it was him. They were the first people in the castle (other than their older counterparts) to openly talk to him in what felt like ages. It felt refreshing. They even agree to do a study group there a few times a week to get his help. From then it would slowly grow to include most of the green clad first years.

Harry had had a little luck finding all the ingredients for the potions, except the unicorn horn. On Friday morning, the same day he needed to start brewing the potion if he was to finish it in time, he was beginning to panic.

Harry had had no luck in finding a unicorn horn at all that week. He had even sent Dobby to ask for a quote from an apothecary (too expensive) and Winky to look in the Room of Requirement (no luck).

By Friday morning when he'd still had no luck, he had accepted the fact that he would not be able to free himself in time for the new year. He'd just have to put up with it a bit longer and hope he could stretch his supplies next year to afford a unicorn horn then. There was little hope, but it was all he had. Still, he hated it and spent a long while blowing things up in the Room of Requirement before first class.

Harry had nearly slipped out of charms, later that morning, and under the cloak when Professor Flitwick's voice seemed to follow him around the corridor. Pushing everything to the back of his mind, Harry went back into the room, somewhat reluctantly. He waited for the professor to speak, holding his gaze, but thinking hard on the feel of his shoes in case Professor Flitwick was a Legilimens.

"I've been trying to catch you, Mr Potter," the professor said cheerily.

"Sorry sir," Harry said, glancing at the door.

"Is everything alright, Mr Potter?" The professor said, and Harry had to hide a flinch at the name, images of his father coming to mind, and Snape being upended and hexed over and over and over again.

"Fine sir. What can I do for you, sir?" Harry asked in a cool but flawlessly polite voice.

The Professor looked at him for a moment, and if Harry didn't know adults better, he'd say the man looked worried, "I found you mother's trunk at last," the half-goblin said with a broad smile.

Harry staired.

"It was shrunk on the end of her bed up in her old apprenticeship rooms. The castle had closed them, I hadn't thought to check there until now," Flitwick explained, as he pulled something out from his pocket and re-sized it.

Harry knew he should feel something, anything, at all, but he felt nothing. He'd felt nothing much all week actually. He blinked and forced a smile and what he hoped was a grateful look onto his face.

"Thank you, Professor. It means a lot to me," he said, but it seemed to fall a little flat. He touched the lid softly but didn't really register much other than a tingle.

"Are you sure you're okay Mr Potter? You've been quiet this week?" The professor said again, shrinking the trunk and handing it to Harry.

"Yes, sir, I'm fine." Harry said emptily putting the tiny trunk in his bag, "can I go to lunch please, sir?" He asked, "I don't want to get into trouble."

Flitwick frowned but nodded. Harry left, donning the cloak as soon as he was out of sight and heading back to the comfort and solitude of the dungeons to finish some homework as he ate before Potions.

Harry avoided Professor Snape again that afternoon in double Potions. He was the last to enter, sitting alone at the back, and was the first to leave, focusing on nothing but his potion. He did not notice the man watching him, or open his mouth to call Harry's name as he dashed out of the class at the end of the lesson. And he certainly did not notice Professor Snape's thoughtful frown follow him out.

NOTES

So we've taken some artistic licence with unicorn's and how they work.

I have bent some of the cannon lore about unicorns. They shed their horn every few years (like deer shed their antlers every season, because how else would you harvest the horns for potions without killing them?)


	35. Chapter 35 Houston, we have a problem

I'm tired today, so have another chapter, yay!

Filius Flitwick was in his office marking, but not really concentrating. He was thinking on the Potter conundrum, when a knock at his door interrupted him. He glanced up and a flick of a long finger towards the door, revealed it to be Severus.

"Come in," he called and gestured his colleague and friend to have a seat

"Merry meet, Severus, I don't often see you leaving your dungeons," he said.

"Indeed," the dour man drawled, looking worried. Filius's brows furrowed and he wondered what the man was concerned about. Could it be that he had noticed as well?

"What seems to be on your mind," he asked summoning tea and pouring his colleague a cup.

"Her son." He said simply, his dark eyes burning.

"Yes," Filius said after a moment, "me too. But you're not often openly concerned. Normally you come here to rant about his stupidity," the half-goblin teased.

Severus winced, and said, "it seems I was wrong about the boy. I am worried."

Filius frowned, "I agree. But that is out of character for you. You hate the boy."

"Indeed, on both counts." He said slowly, "it is a change of character..."

Filius peered at him slowly, "you think there is something else at play?" He flicked his wand in a complicated pattern, bringing up privacy wards around his office.

"Mayhap. I shall be going to Gringotts over the break. I know I have not been potioned. As a master I would have noticed a compulsion brew. But there are other methods someone could use to bend a person's will. I should have-" he cut himself off furiously.

"Severus?"

"The boy is abused. I should have noticed it. There is something wrong, and I didn't notice. I always notice, and I failed him. I failed Lily's son." Severus burst out, sounding uncharacteristically openly pained.

"Would you like me to scan you?" Filius asked.

Severus nodded sharply, "I was so angry I wanted to make him scrub cauldrons until the day he died; until his fingers bled, Filius," he said looking at his colleague with an unusually raw expression.

Filius frowned, "that is a bit extreme. I can understand thinking it occasionally, but really wanting too, that's not like you."

Filius waved his wand over Severus in a long, complicated pattern before pinching the end of it and withdrawing a silver wispy substance that he then pressed into the end of a quill he'd pulled from somewhere. The Half-goblin always seemed to have a few spear quills and parchments on him. A click of his long fingers and it started writing.

"hmmm, you have a complex hatred hex on you, and a torment hex," Filius said with a frown, "both old. The target is Gryffindor, Weasley, Granger, and Potter and Longbottom. Both seem to be based on your true dislike of Gryffindor and Potter. It has built increased its intensity, and compromising moral values." Flitwick said, frowning deeply at his colleague.

"Can you break them?" Severus asked.

"Yes. It's ingeniously done, really." Filius said as he handed Severus a short knife, "horrible but genius, so you wouldn't notice, so it would slowly build upon your known dislike and make it extreme. Extreme enough that you had trouble thinking clearly and judging your own actions it took your own mild dislike and made it into someone else's seething loathing."

With a scowl that would have sent students running, Severus pricked his finger and touched it to the top of Filius's wand. Filius made a complicated pattern around Severus, touched the bloody wand tip to his forehead and drew it away. It made a bang like a gun, making Severus flinch. He felt a horrible squelching sensation in his chest, pulling to the point it almost hurt, and then...

He blinked, and took stock of his body. Everything felt the same. He scanned his mental shields and his mind. Some holes as normal. Wait... He frowned. How had he missed that? He thought a moment.

"I still hate them." He said

"Well, yes, I expected as much. You hated Gryffindor before, disliked the younger Weasleys already and dislike people in general, especially students and Gryffindors at that. Add in Potters and no wonder you didn't notice it. It carefully amped up your general dislike of people." Flitwick explained, "you wouldn't have noticed. It just tweaked, took away your control, heightened the desired attributes to unreasonable extremes."

"I should have thought," he said, taking a long sip of tea. "I have treated all of the little blighters appallingly, not that they don't deserve it, the little terrors. Not that I have much choice even without the spells. But it was extreme even for me. I never should have made that comment about Granger's teeth, and Longbottom is hopeless but needs tutoring, and possibly investigation into his home life, not constant berating. Potter was ignorant, not arrogant and is clearly abused. That much is clear now. I never should have yelled at him when he apologised either..."

Filius smiled sadly at his colleague and patted his hand, "We'll manage. I'll take you to see my half brother over Christmas, for a full work up. We'll see what else we can figure out." Filius said.

Severus nodded and said, "the boy is abused."

"Yes."

"He's acting oddly this week." He continued

"Yes, I noticed, it worried you too?"

"Yes. I haven't been able to corner the brat to ask him. He's been avoiding me since our disagreement last Friday. It's remarkable how hard to catch he is in the corridors."

"Oh?" Filius enquired curiously.

"He came to apologise for his lack of manners," Severus said slowly, reluctantly, "I threw it in his face."

Filius winced, then frowned but asked, "why?"

"I thought him lying; mocking me. He somehow found out about his father's treatment of me. I lost my temper, thought him rubbing my face in it. Now he is avoiding me like the plague."

"Ahhh," Filius said, "we'll give him the holidays to calm down. If you can't get hold of him, maybe send him an owl. I haven't been able to catch him properly either."

"Mmm..."

"Though," Filius mused, "if he has a troubled home life, why is he going home for the holidays now? He never has before..."

"Why indeed," Severus mused.


	36. Chapter 36 A Bit of Luck & More Bad News

TRIGGER WARNINGS!

This one has some trigger warnings! The details are at the bottom of the page for anyone who wants to check them.

If I put them here they'll contain spoilers for everyone.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Later that evening, after their rounds in the forest, Harry and Hagrid were heading back when they come across a unicorn. Harry hadn't seen a unicorn in person since that night with Quirrellmort back in first year, and just the sight of it threw him right back to that night.

He remembered walking down the path, and Fang suddenly let out a yelp and bolded. Startled Harry had hurried forward, stupidly, only to catch sight of the blood. He followed it, only to stop when he caught sight of the unicorn. Her pearly white coat was glowing almost in the darkness. It was the most beautiful and heartbreaking thing he had ever seen.

After being sick, Malfoy freaked out and ran, taking the lantern with him, running screaming after Fang, leaving Harry alone in the dark. (Really fang had sensed something, Harry should have paid more attention to him.)

But Harry was so overcome with compassion for the unicorn, who was grunting in pain, it's golden foal nearby. Unable to help himself, Harry ran up to the mother, spooking the foal. It snorted in alarm and gangled off into the trees out of reach.

Harry had desperately tried to stem the flow of blood, ripping off bits of his pants trying to patch her up. But it didn't stop, and he didn't know any spells. Just a warming charm that he used to keep the mother warm, and one on the foal too, which had crept fearfully closer. Harry had tried to reassure it that things would be okay, that its mum would be fine, but Harry hadn't believed it himself.

But Quirrellmort came out, not that he'd known it was Quirell then. Harry stood wand out, trying to defend it, but he didn't know anything, and his head hurt. Quirrell had used Expelliarmus to blast Harry back and he hit a tree. Quirrellmort drank the blood. Then Firenze had come galloping in, and chased him off.

Harry had crawled over to the unicorn. He'd been crying then, as he had pressed his hands to the wound, trying desperately to stop the still sluggish blood flowing from the now dead Unicorn, too overcome by the sight. The foal was nowhere to be found and despite Harry's pleading, fighting, Firenze wouldn't let him go back for the foal. He'd told Hagrid though.

It took ages afterwards to get the blood off, Harry recalled now. He never wore those robes again. They had been folded up, in the bottom of his trunk, he meant to burn them but hadn't gotten around to it. The Gryffindors had taken care of that Harry thought bitterly. He'd had nightmares for ages after that.

He blinked when the unicorn in front of him let out a nicker, a soft, low, throaty sound. The unicorn was not quite white yet, a pale silver, with hints of gold in its main still. Its horn was still gold.

Hagrid put a hand on Harry's shoulder, making him jump and said, "slowly, they don't like boys usually. Just girls and virgins, the innocent mostly. But he remembers you 'arry. He's the one who's mum died, back in ye' first year. You're warming charm was still on 'im when I found 'im" Hagrid said.

Harry stared at the unicorn. It didn't seem to mind Harry, thought it was hesitant. It let Harry take a step closer however. It was so beautiful. Harry carful reached out to pat its warm, velvety nose.

It smelt sweet, like fresh rain, and a summer breeze. It nudged Harry, its head butting against Harry's shoulder as if itchy. Harry reached up to scratch its head, and it leaned into the touch, letting out a long sigh of content, making Harry scratch a bit harder. Harry panicked a moment when the horn wobbled, however. It was gold still, though the coat was silver, the base of the horn had started to silver now too.

Harry try to stay away from it, but the unicorn has a mind of its own and seemed to want him to scratch at the loose horn. It looked slightly Darker around the horn, as if slightly inflamed. It wobbled, Harry was really worried and turned to ask Hagrid but the unicorn just head-butted him again when he stopped scratching and started using Harry's chest as a scratching post.

The horn wobbled again, got caught in his cloak and fell off. Horrified Harry catches it without thinking and pulled his wand casting 'episky,' over and over again trying to heal it, to fix it, worried he'd broken the unicorn. He seemed to break everything he touched at the moment.

But Hagrid was laughing, and the unicorn was still scratching quite vigorously against him. Slowly Harry calmed. He can see a small white stub of the new horn underneath now. He tentatively ran a finger over it. It was cool and smooth. The unicorn made a content sound, and he obligingly scratched its head some more, a but much harder this time, know he knew it wouldn't hurt it.

Hagrid was still laughing, and Harry turned curious.

"They're meant to shed their horns, 'arry. They take 4 years too mature, they grow horns from 6 months. When their fully grown, they shed their childhood horn, and they then shed their horns every few years (like deer shed their antlers every season." Hagrid explained still chuckling.

In hindsight, Harry figured it was pretty funny.

"its an honour and a gift. He remembers you, 'arry," Hagrid went on, handing Harry a sugar cube, from one of his endless pockets, to feed the unicorn, "what you did to try and save his mum, how you tried to go back for it. I went back after I dropped you lot off, Firenze showed me where you lot had been. I found him, still warm by your charm by his dead mum. I burried her good, and took him home with me, raised him myself."

Harry felt his walls crumbling. He'd all but given up on being able to make the potion to free himself. And now this unicorn, this bright, vibrant, innocent creature had come to help him. The compassion of it hit Harry like punch to the gut, and he seemed to tilt forward until his head was resting on the unicorn's strong neck, and he had wrapped an arm around the animal.

Its warm spring scent. Its fur was soft and warm, and Harry could feel it breathing, and he absently stroked his hands along his flank. The unicorn seemed to nibble at his hair a bit but seemed content to let Harry cling to it for a moment longer.

Eventually, he took a deep breath and stepped back, reaching out a gentle hand to stroke its nose.

"Thank you, I don't know how you knew, but thank you. You have no idea what this means to me. Or maybe you do," he murmured into its ear.

The unicorn butted its nose against Harry's chest before turning and cantering off into the tress with a swish of it's bright silver tail.

Feeling honoured and with a renewed sense of determination to free himself, Harry started the potion that night. Up in his new little potions lab. He timed it carefully so he could stir it in the mornings and evenings, around his classes.

Harry's weekend passed in a blur of studying. Studying in the forest with Firenze and Hagrid, practicing his knives, and archery, studying with Bill, studying languages trying to work out the egg, duelling with Fred and George, and catching up on both his school work and WEA work as well as tackling the books on the old ways. It kept him busy and distracted him from the fresh set of nightmares the unicorn had reawaken.

The following week passed in much the same manner as the previous, spending most of his time when not in class, tutoring the first years, having Slytherin lessons or in the forest, in his cupboard studying or working on the potion. He'd not made any headway with the egg, but he'd read enough of the language book to know it wasn't a banshee or any other human language, nor was it a goblin dialect. Though Goblin was a very interesting language but seemed harder to teach himself that Latin and French were.

Rita Skeeter showed up to Care of Magical Creatures on Tuesday and interviewed Hagrid, after a particularly trying session with the skrewts. He had another Slytherin lesson on Wednesday night and started brewing the middle stage of the potion. So far, despite the fact that it was complex and time-consuming in nature, it was going well. Harry was finding he was really enjoying it.

It was on Thursday in the transfiguration double that Harry was jolted out of his dead numbness.

"I have something I need to say to you all," Professor McGonagall said, making Harry look up from where he was in the back corner of the room copying down their homework essay on Cross-Species Switching.

"The Yule Ball is approaching. It is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialise with our foreign guests," she went on, and Harry felt a spark of dread light up in his stomach. This could not be good.

"The ball will be open to fourth years, and above only. However, you may invite a younger student if you wish-"

Brown and Patil let out a shrill giggle, Professor McGonagall ignored them, and continued, "Dress robes will be worn," Harry's heart sank, he didn't have any anymore, they'd been burnt. Even then, there was no way in hell he was going to a ball. Too many people, too much attention, too many people touching him. And no ball was more important than getting free of the magic and spell on him. He needed to be at Gringotts.

"The ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Eve, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then-" Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class.

"The Yule Ball is, of course, a chance for us all to," she pursed her lips disapprovingly for a moment, "let our hair down."

"But that does NOT mean," Professor McGonagall went on when the giggles had subsided, "that we will be relaxing the standards of behaviour we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way."

The bell rang, and he had almost made it out of the room when she called above the noise, "Potter a word, please."

Biting back a grown, Harry proceeded reluctantly back in into the classroom. Professor McGonagall waited until the rest of the class had gone, after shooing Hermione and Neville out. This did not help the sinking feeling in his gut. Only then did she say, "Potter, the champions and their partners -"

"What?" said Harry, there was no way he was going.

Professor McGonagall looked at him suspiciously, as though he was trying to be funny. He was not being at all funny. There was nothing remotely funny about this situation in any way shape or form.

"Your partner for the Yule Ball, Potter," she said coldly. "Your dance partner."

Harry's insides seemed to curl up and shrivel, his hands started to go numb. Dancing meant touching and being stared at. Dread pooled in his gut, and it was all he could do to get out the words, "dance partners? I don't dance. I have holiday plans," he said quickly.

"Oh yes you do dance," said Professor McGonagall irritably, "and no, you do not have plans any more. You will be staying here for the break. Now pay attention. That's what I'm telling you. Traditionally, the champions with their partners open the ball."

His skin crawled, and itched, felt much too tight, his stomach rolled.

"I'm not dancing," he said again, trying to remember how to breathe.

"It is traditional. You don't have a choice," said Professor McGonagall firmly. "You are a Hogwarts champion. You will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a partner, Potter."

"But- I don't-" he stuttered, his hands shaking now, his legs starting to feel like jelly, "please ma'am."

"You heard me, Potter," she said in a very final way, "you will be at that ball. You will have a partner, and you will dance. If you cannot do so competently get one of your housemates to teach you. I do not see why, after 3 years of not leaving the castle once, you have the need to now."

"But ma'am, I can't-"

"You and the other champions are opening the dance! You will have to ask someone." She said clearly getting exasperated with him.

"I'm not a champion!" He spat out, "I'm an unwilling participant! I don't want to be your bloody show, pony!"

"20 points for your language and disrespect, Potter," she snapped. "There are plenty of girls in your house, ask one of them!"

Then suddenly he had a thought, and it really irritated him, "so are you telling me I have to ask someone to the ball or that it has to be a female?" He asked suddenly, her comment distracting him momentarily from his panicked irritation and he latched onto it.

"I didn't know you were gay Potter?" She said, clearly surprised.

'You don't know a lot,' he wanted to spit out, but he didn't, instead, "that, is beside the point professor. Are you saying that not only do I have to go to a ball against my will, but I also have to dance and be in a semi-intimate embrace in front of other people, against my will and it has to be with a girl?" He asked, trying not to snap.

"Ms Granger's a girl, you know her well enough, ask her." Professor McGonagall snapped.

"I am starting to see that if not you, then someone else will force me to go to this ball whether I agree or not, But I have no intention of fooling myself that I will like it. I won't. This whole tournament has been hell. Hermione deserves to go with someone who actually wants to go with her and wants to be there. Hermione is my dearest friend. I love spending time with her. She is not a last resort. She deserves better. I won't do it. I won't go."

"another 20 points for your cheek. You have to Potter. You will take a girl or if you insist on a male, and you can get him to agree, take Mr Weasley for all I care. You will dance. You will do so graciously, or you will be in detention for the rest of the year, champion or not and more points lost! I will not have you disrespecting me like this, and you will not make a fool out of Gryffindor or of Hogwarts. I had enough of this attitude of yours!"

"I wouldn't take Ron if it was between him and the giant squid!" Harry spat.

"So you're not gay then!" She cried out with satisfaction.

"That's not the point! I won't do it!"

"You'll do as your told!" she snapped back in an uncharacteristically harsh snarl.

Panic rising again, Harry stormed out.

He made it to a nearby bathroom before his knees gave out. He pressed his face into the floor and tried to breathe, gasping, and his lungs seemed to tighten and not cooperate at all. She was going to make him stay. She was trapping him here, and making him dance in front of everyone. Making him touch people.

Petunia had tried to teach Dudley to dance once. She'd made Harry be the girl. Dudley had teased him mercilessly about it for weeks and had taken the opportunity to pinch Harry and stomp on his feet. Gods it had hurt, and it had been so humiliating. He shuddered as his skin crawled, and he heard Dudley's laugh in his head.

He was trapped here. He'd never be free. He'd never get out. The walls were closing in on him, and he gasped for air. All he could see was nameless faces staring at him, peering at him like a bug under a microscope, staring at him, pawing at it, clawing at his clothes like they had that first time in Diagon alley, like they had when they grabbed him and threw him out of the tower.

Gods what was he going to do, he didn't mind Bill and Charlie touching him when they didn't startle him, but they weren't students, and they weren't here. And even then, he didn't think it would go down at all well. The last thing he needed was more attention and more scandal. Hermione was okay, and Hagrid was manageable but a teacher. He clenched his fists in his hair, trying not to shake as his skin crawled at the thought of such scrutiny and attention; of having to be touched for so long.

"Hermione," he gasped out. He'd have to pray she would agree to do him the favour. She deserved better, but if he had to go, she was probably the only person he'd manage to dance with and was his only hope of surviving the whole hellish idea. Gods he'd have to find a way out, he'd have to write to Rodgrip.

There was a pop. He startled, shot out a stunner without even thinking about it. There was a squeel, and Dobby popped away again.

Hermione looked up startled when she heard a popping noise and something tapped her knee. Frowning, she glanced around before peering carefully under the table. Dobby was there, tapping her knee. He raised a finger to his lips in silence and pointed to the entrance hall before popping away again. Frowning, she hoped Harry hadn't gotten himself into trouble without her. She gathered a couple of sandwiches before turning to Neville who had been sitting next to her.

"I have to go. I'll catch up with you later?" She said hurriedly.

"Sure, everything okay?" He asked, worriedly.

"Don't know, I'll find out. Don't let them bully you while I'm gone," she said before hurrying from the hall.

Dobby joined her and lead her to one of the boys' bathrooms by the Transfiguration classroom. Her heart sank, and she hopped Harry was okay.

Harry was on the floor in the corner, next to a puddle of sick, clearly panicking.

"Harry?" She asked, cautiously stepping into the bathroom.

He glanced up at her, eye's wide, "don't want to dance, to be stained at, to be touched," he shuddered, his skin crawling, "hate it. She's going to make me. Can't leave for Christmas, have to go to the ball." He stuttered out, "don't know what to do."

"Take a deep breath Harry," she said, sitting next to him, after vanishing the sick. She was carful not to touch him.

Harry took a shallow shuddering breath.

"And another one," she said, talking him through it, putting one of his hands on her upper chest so he could feel her breathing and mimic it.

"Feel my breath, copy it. In slowly... Hold it... and out," she said slowly and calmly, "you're doing well, keep copying my breath."

Slowly he calmed down, and when he realised, he pulled his hand back as if burned. She rolled her eyes at him, snorted "boys."

He smiled, weakly, "Thanks, Hermione."

"Don't worry about it," she said handing him a sandwich, "I had panic attacks in primary school, the teacher would have to talk me down, I'd forget how to breath" she explained that unasked question, "now, what's up? What did Professor McGonagall want?"

Harry's eyes filled with dread again, and he said, "I have to dance at the yule ball. The 'champions," he sneered, "have to open it. Everyone staring at me, too much touching. I'm so sorry Hermione, I'm so sorry to ask this. You deceiver so much better."

Hermione looked puzzled but let him continue, "She says I don't have a choice." He took another calming breath. "I would be very relieved if you would consent to go with me, please Hermione, as my friend."

He all but begged, hating himself for it, "I don't want to go, if I'm brutally honest, and I don't want to dance. Being stared at and touched so closely; it honestly sounds like a nightmare, but you're my best friend, and it might make it bearable if it's with you."

He grimaced slightly, not the most flattering way to asked, "sorry," he said, "I know girls seem to like balls and find them exciting or romantic or something Brown and Patil said, so I understand if you'd rather not... its not that I don't think your pretty, and attractive and wonderful. I just don't like you like that. Oh gosh, I hope I haven't made this all really weird! I don't know if I like anyone like that. I think that bit's broken.

"Oh Harry," she said, "I'll go with you, of course I will. Yes I'd like to be asked out by someone who fancies me, it would be really nice, and maybe romantic, but there's time. There will be other times for that, and I'm more than happy to go with you as your friend and support you. Don't worry, I don't like you like that either.

But you're not broken Harry, some things take time, and you're not there yet. You have plenty going on, and that's okay. It will happen. And if it doesn't, that's fine. Charlies single, and happy with just his dragons, and Bill's not into girls at all. It's fine. Don't worry about it yet."

"Oh, thank the gods."

"You want a hug?" She asked carefully.

"Erm yes? Maybe? Just a little one?"

She laughed softly, opened her arms and slowly and gently wrapped them around him loosely, so not to startle him. He was stiff as a broad.

"What am I meant to do again?" He asked nervously, his mind going blank

She let out a soft huff of amusement again and said, "just relax into it and enjoy the warmth and companionship of a good friend that cares for you. It doesn't need to be complicated. It's just meant to feel nice."

"Oh," he forced himself to relax. It was weird still, being so close, even if it was Hermione, but the warmth was kind of nice. He wasn't sure, he put his arms around her tentatively.

She leaned back after a moment, "Its okay Harry."

"You deserve better," he said, "you deserve that romance dating thing that girls, and people seem to want."

She laughed lightly, "I do, but there will be other balls, and I'm happy to help out a friend. It's not as if I don't like spending time with you. If you're opening the ball, maybe you can slip away after that. There will be other dances, I can dance with other people after you're free to go. It's okay Harry." She said, and he sighed in relief.

"Thanks, Hermione, don't know what I'd do without you."

She nodded, "and if you have to stay, we'll just have to make sure you can get out for easter."

He nodded glumly, "gods I don't want to go. I don't want to dance and be stared at like a freak show!"

"I know and you're not. I can teach you to dance, that way it will at least be a bit more bearable," she said.

"You deserve better than this," he said, "I'm really sorry."

"I do, but that's not your fault, I could have said no. You're my friend and asked for my help. I chose to give it to you." She said firmly, "there is not much I wouldn't do for you, Harry, just as you would for me."

Harry nodded, she was right, she often was. He would have done the same for her.

"I'll check the charter and see if I have to stay, if there is anything keeping me here of the holidays," he said making a decision, "I'll talk to Rodgrip and see if its in the contract too. Maybe I can get us both out of this then you'll be free to find a proper date."

She blushed and elbowed him but instead said, "I've missed you these last few weeks. You've been avoiding me."

"Yeah," Harry sighed, "but it's better if they don't see you around me, they know we're close."

"No, actually," she said matter of factly.

"What?" He asked frowning

"It's not better," she said bluntly, "they hex me as much as they hex you now, but I live with them. They hate me just as much. It's no safer for me alone than it is with you. They hex me we're together or not. At least when we're together, I have someone to watch my back." She said matter of factly, "and I'm not letting it go, because even if you don't, I think you deserve better than this."

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded, resting his head on her shoulder.

He wrote to Rodgrip, Bill and Charlie that night. He had finished up studying in the library with his friends, and Harry had returned exhausted to his cupboard. He'd started reading the Hogwarts charter. It was much too long for him to read cover to cover in one sitting. It was not only long but also a complex document, that seemed to have little order to it at all, as if it were really a bunch of different rules and sections just strung together.

He'd had to resort to using searching spells to find all of the sections pertaining to staying or leaving school over the break. Thankfullu, nowhere did it say that he had to stay at school over the break. Not if he didn't want to, not if his guardians didn't object.

He wrote to the Dursley's too. He hated it, but he wrote to his aunt, begging her to give him permission to be away from the castle over the break. He bribed her with the potential for him to stay somewhere else during the summer if he could find somewhere else now. He also added a note that none of the neighbours would notice him there, thinking that if she didn't have to worry about his freakishness, maybe she would be more inclined to help him out.

He did not have high hopes.

Friday passed achingly slowly, but desperate for a break from study and worrying, Harry took Hermione and Neville down to Hagrid's at lunch. Hermione had, as usual, been right. It was much better when they all stuck together, and Harry led Hermione and Neville through the lesser-known secret passageways, and the snake passages, to get through the school without being hexed. It was nice hanging out with Hermione again. He hadn't realised how much he'd drawn away, and how much he'd missed her.

The five of them originally went to ask him about Skeeter's interview and to interrogate him about the lake. They were still planning on exploring it with Gillyweed in the summer but were worried about the Giant Squid.

"Surprised you didn't end up in the paper," Harry said as Hagrid poured them all tea.

""She jus' wanted me ter talk about you, Harry," Hagrid said. "Well, I told her we'd been friends since I went ter fetch yeh from the Dursleys. 'Never had to tell him off in four years?' she said me. 'Never played you up in lessons, has he?' I told her no, an she didn' seem happy at all. Yeh'd think she wanted me to say yeh were horrible, Harry."

"'Course she did," Harry muttered, "anyway less about her and what about the lake Hagrid?"

"We want to go exploring in it with Gillyweed when the lake has thawed, when it's warm again," explained Hermione, casting a look out Hagrid's window at the snow-covered grounds. It had started snowing early this year, and it looked like the lake was going to freeze over.

"But we're worried the squid will eat us." Neville said succinctly, "we were hoping to find all sorts of aquatic plants and animals down there. Harry said you might be able to tell us."

"Ah well. He won't harm no one he won't," Hagrid said, "e's harmless."

"Aragog harmless?" Harry asked, "or Unicorn harmless?"

Hagrid laughed, "unicorn," he said. "You want to watch out more for the Grindylows in the kelp forests, but you know all about them from Defence, don't you?

"Yes, Professor Lupin went over them with us," Hermione said

"What else is in there?" Harry asked curiously.

"We'll there are merpeople down their, their defensive of what's theirs, don't like wizards much. So don't go causing them trouble." Hagrid warned.

"Merpeople? In the lake? What are they like?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Well, their friendly enough if you can talk to them, and leave them alone. But they don't like having to go up to the air, to speak to people. Of course, it's harder to understand Mermish on land, sounds like screeching, don' it?" Hagrid continued, and Harry froze.

"what?" He asked.

"Mermish," Hagrid said, "it sounds like screaming. It's only in the water you can understand it. There it ounds like the singing it truly is then." Hagrid said frowning at Harry.

"You okay Harry?" He asked

"That's it!" Harry said, standing up, dropping his teacup in his hurry, "the egg! It's in Mermish! You're a genius Hagrid!" Harry said, tearing out of Hagrid's hut leaving a bemused Hagrid, Neville and Hermione behind him, talking more about the lake.

As much as Harry wanted to, he didn't skip potions to work on the egg. He contented himself with flicking through to the Mermish section of his language book and reassuring himself that it did indeed sound like Mermish should.

Potions seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly, and he worked alone at the back of the room diligently, despite his agitation. It seemed that Snape had plenty to distract himself with instead of Harry. Ever since the announcement of the ball, everyone seemed to have an inability to focus, girls giggling mainly at every turn, and it seemed that Harry wasn't the only one irritated by it. At least it provided them with a good distraction from hexing him.

He went straight back to his cupboard after potions and took the egg down to one of the long-forgotten bathrooms in the lower dungeon. It was dusty and abandoned like everything else, but with the help of Dobby, Winky and a good few cleaning spells, he managed to get the large stone bathtub working.

Once the bath was full, he hesitantly got in. He didn't like baths. He'd almost drowned too many times as a child either due to Dudley pushing him into a pool or holding him under in the bath. Even alone like this, it made him weary. Not weary enough that the idea of going into the lake to explore with his friends didn't sound exciting. But enough to make him realise he really did need to learn to swim.

Maybe the Room of Requirement could come up with a pool? Maybe there was one here in the dungeons somewhere. He noted that this level wasn't on the map. He kept meaning to read up on how they made it and see if he could add to it.

He got into the bath and nearly jumped a mile when the Bloody Barron appeared out of a tap.

"No-one has been down on this level for an age, young snake." He said

Harry shivered as the Ghost's presence started to chill that water, and he sank deeper into the bath, "sorry sir," he said.

The Ghost chuckled, and while it made his chains klink, it made him seem much more human and less intimidating.

"I did not expect you of all people to make themselves at home here in my domain."

Harry forgot how to breathe, "it's nice down here, safe and quiet. Please don't tell anyone! They'll kick me out,"

I have nowhere else to go, he thought, hopelessly. He did not want to get unhomed again.

"You're Harry potter," the Ghost said, then peering at him closely

"Unfortunately," Harry said bleakly.

The Ghost laughed again but said, "they are trying to un-house you young snake."

"Yes," he said bleakly, "I won't stop them. Better off without them."

"Spoken like a true snake. It is said that you should have been one of ours, snake speaker."

"Yes sir," Harry said

"There are snakes in this dungeon. It holds many secrets," the Ghost said before drifting off through a wall. Harry wondered if he was talking about the Parseltongue passages or if maybe someone else was secretly hiding down here too.

"Sir!" Harry called out, making the ghost pause and stick his head back out of the wall, "sir, thank you for the advice, but you won't tell anyone I'm here will you?" He asked

"Snakes stick together," was all the Barron said before drifting off, leaving Harry confused but somewhat reassured.

Puzzled, Harry frowned and reached for his wand and cast a lot more spells on the door and reheated the bathwater. When the water was once again, almost too hot, he reached for the egg and dropped it into the bathwater before opening it.

He took a great breath and slid under the surface. The egg was producing an eerie chorus of voices singing:

"Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you're searching, ponder this:

We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

An hour-long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour- the prospect's black,

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."

Harry let himself float back upward and broke the bubbly surface, shaking his hair out of his eyes. Dread filled his stomach. He took a great breath and slid under the surface to hear it again, memorising it.

It was indeed Mermish. meaning that they lived in the lake like Hagrid said. And were going to steal something of his... Or someone else would and give it to them to hold hostage. He wouldn't put that past Dumbledore. He'd have to find a way to tighten his wards. Again.

They would take something he had to get back. But what were they going to take?

He frowned. He can easily put everything he owned of importance in his warded bag again. It would be easy enough, and he could get his bow and his broom in there now too. He could have Dobby pop it over to his vault overnight so no-one could take it in his sleep. It will be safe in Gringotts. He could keep his possessions safe.

But would they do that, or take someone, he thought frantically.

Two things he had noticed about the tasks in the past. They used the elements. With dragons being the fire element and air, it made sense that the second task would be water, and therefore, the third had to be earth. The other thing he had noticed was that the first was often a creature task, the second was a hostage or rescue of some kind and the third was often some kind of challenge or quest.

Hermione. They would take Hermione. They wouldn't take an object, that was too easy, too little risk.

Hermione was his best friend. That or maybe Bill or Charlie, or Fred or George or Neville or Hagrid. Somehow he didn't think it would be an adult. Noone knew he was close to Dobby and Winky, and wizards so often dismissed them, so he didn't think it would be the elves. They were safe.

It would most likely be Hermione. He shuddered. He'd have to find a way to protect them all. He'd have to work doubly hard on that shielding wrist band. Maybe put some kind of tracker in it.

He had to get Gillyweed, enough for both he and Hermione, to have some regularly as a backup. They'd need to learn to fight and fight dirty if someone was going to try and get either of them. He'd need to research other methods of breathing underwater. And, he'd need to learn to swim. He shuddered. He'd nearly drowned last time.

Fuck.

He called Dobby and Winky.

They popped in with a bow and a curtsey, "you know you don't need to stand on formality with me," he told them.

But the elves just shook their heads, horrified at the prospect, so he continued, "the second task is a hostage rescue. Either something or someone important to me. I can keep all my things in my warded bag, would you be able to take it to Rodgrip or into my vault if I needed?" He asked.

"We is not able to take it into the vault, Mr Harry Potter sir," squeaked Dobby, "I is not bonded, and Winky only partly, but we is able to take it to Miss Goblin sir, she be putting it in the Vaultses."

"Right, that would be brilliant." Harry said relieved, "the other thing they may take is someone. I want you both to be very careful, no-one knows you work for me, so that should keep you safe. But if anyone asks, please say no. I do not want you at risk. Of course, I don't think they will ask, they will probably just take. Please be careful!" He begged.

Both elves burst into noisy tears, overcome by his caring but agreed. They also agreed to keep an eye on these things and on his friend.

He headed back to his cupboard after that. He had a potion to finish and breathing underwater to research. He paused a moment. It was in February. It had already started snowing, and the lake was showing signs of freezing over this year. He shuddered, there was a foot of snow outside! He'd have to look up heating charms and maybe ways of using runes on his skin to keep him warm. He had three shirts on, two jumpers and a cloak on and he was still cold.

0o0o0o0o0o

TRIGGER WARNINGS!

Panic Attacks

Thoughtless teachers

0o0o0o0

The unicorn bit that was originally meant to go in before the first Gringotts trip but the centaurs ran of with my plot!

Yes I changed the date of the ball. It was more convineit that way

(Note no homophobia intended, mcgonagall is just being oblivious and throughtless. She's not a homophobe, she just doesn't know Harry.)


	37. Chapter 37 His Mum's Trunk

Oh look we get some good news! Finally!

See end for notes

0o0o0o0

Harry wrote back and forth to Bill and Charlie a few times while puzzling over the issue of the fireproof shirt. Thankfully he and Bill had a bit of time on Saturday after Occlumency to look at it.

The problem was that the runes were absorbing too much power. He'd got the self-sustaining element working, but intensely magical fire overpowered them. It buckled under the extra charge and had started blowing up again.

Will Bill's assistance Harry had worked out how to add temperature control charms to help as secondary bleed offs. If he added something for balance, it should make sure the shirt stayed just the right temperature, not too hot in summer and not too cold in winter.

That was the idea anyway. It could adjust based off body temperature. For long bouts of fire, it still wasn't enough however. So they had to put a sensor in it. That allowed the runes to charge to a certain level and stop them from absorbing more. The rest would then just bleed off and be channelled it into the climate control and the low-level glow.

In the end, they worked out that it should work if the shirt was initially charged up under a full moon before it would correctly recycle the energy and keep it balanced. There was something in the balance of the full moon that helped. He managed to get the bleed off working, but the soft glow on the runes was not quite enough yet.

So Harry ended up with five prototypes that once charged should work. He just needed to get Charlie to test them out on dragon fire now.

To Harry's relief, he heard back from his aunt on Saturday night, after his lesson with Bill. She'd agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

"Fine. Come back for Christmas. The garden needs work, and the house needs a clean before Christmas dinner. This better be worth it! I'll pick you up from the station, but it had better be the last time!

Petunia."

Harry smiled. Anyone who saw it would think he was pleased to hear from his aunt. They would have thought wrong. He was amazed at her agreeing. Still, he suspected it was not out of the non-existent kindness of her heart, but out of desperation at the slight possibility of getting rid of him permanently.

He snorted. She hated him; almost more than Snape did. He had long learnt to read between the lines of her speech. She would pick him up and carry on the farce of needing him home. But only on the condition, he gave her a good day's work on the house and the garden. Harry suspected it would be all evening in the house cleaning, then, once everyone was in bed, all night working in the garden, before cooking them breakfast. But after that, he would be free and had better never return. Part of the agreement was to find somewhere else to stay for the summer. The prospect of being free of him was a hefty bribe. He had known it would work.

Without being able to sell his old books and dress robes, he had no idea where he would stay. But he'd lived on the streets before and could do it again. He'd just need to make sure he packed enough food this time.

Harry sighed and pulled his jar of bluebell flames out of his bag and put it on the shelf next to him on a small amplification rune. He tapped the rune, and it flared to life, sending the heat of the low flame all through the cupboard as if he were in front of an open fireplace.

He grinned. He loved magic.

Now all he could hope for was that Rodgrip would find a loophole in the tournament contract. He opened the box again, Rodgrip had gotten back to him, but his note was not what he had hoped, merely a straight to the point note.

"I shall look into it."

Charlie had also written back to him. He had been absolutely thrilled with his birthday gift. Harry had made a few hooded shirts that were fireproof for Charlie, or they would be when Charlie charged them with his blood. That was the most reliable way so far. Harry had got Charlie's measurements from Bill and found some in the Room of Requirement to fit. Bill had also promised Harry that Charlie would be okay with the blood magic and Harry wondered if Charlie too was Darke. He didn't ask though.

Harry had sent Charlie across some of the prototypes of the other shirts to test out. He'd tested them for him, and had sent back detailed notes on how they had worked and at what point they had combusted or exploded. The five he had sent over had been a complete bust. They had worked, but when it got to the point of recharging, under long bouts of fire, they still tended to combust.

But Harry knew he was getting closer. It was just the bleed-off that was still the problem. Maybe he could find some way to send the excess power back to the earth... It would need a different rune set up, but eliminate the need for the glow.

The power rune circle would need to be linked to an earth grounding sigil, and that needed to be tied to the self-sustaining ring... Maybe if he had the original fireproof runes in the middle, with the climate control, and have both of them surrounded by the power rune chain, combined with the recharging chain... If he chained them around the outside of the original set, with an earth sigil in the middle... It might work.

Harry scribbled down his notes, before turning back to Charlie's letter.

Charlie had written to his Metamorph friend, Tonks. She recommended 'Powers You Never Knew You Had & What To Do With Them Now You've Wised Up.' But apparently, there was actually very little in the way of guides for Metamophmagi. She'd mostly had to figure it out for herself. But she gave him her Gringotts Box number though, so he could write. Apparently, all Aurors had them, and she was a trainee.

Charlie was equally furious and appalled at the ball, but offered to teach him to dance when they saw each other next. Apparently, it was not too hellish if you were friends with the person you were dancing with.

Harry wasn't convinced, but spent Sunday in the Room of Requirements with Hermione, the twins, and Neville who had brought along Luna, who he was good friends with. Apparently, they had met up through Herbology.

The six of them spent an enjoyable day, duelling, studying, brainstorming breathing methods and learning to dance. Harry also brushed up on some of his old street skills, and tried his hand at sparring against the training dummy's the room had conjured for him.

They were vicious, and by the time he had finished, he was exhausted and sore but pleased with his progress. The others agreed to join in too. None of them wanted to be caught out and dragged into the lake in the middle of winter. He'd even started teaching them how to use a knife in a fight. Really the training dummies were brilliant!

"Honestly!" Hermione said as they poured over another set of books, this time for potions they could use, "it's like they want to kill us all."

"You'll need to know how to swim," Fred said.

"We'll teach you mate," George offered.

"I don't have any swimming trunks," Harry said, trying to avoid the inevitable.

"I can lend you a set." Neville said, "I'm pretty sure I can get us some gillyweed, but maybe we should see if there's a potion or something we can use with it in it, so you can get the effects to last longer, just in case."

"And maybe an antidote to end them earlier too," Harry thought, "so I don't then suffocate if I come up to the air too early."

"that's a good point mate," George said,

"Yeah, it'd be a shame if you went to all that trouble to not drown, only to end up asphyxiating when out of the water." Fred finished, making them all laugh.

It was only later that night that Harry remembered that he hadn't opened his mother's trunk yet. Despite his exhaustion, he just couldn't sleep. He was too tired to wander the school and had ended up pulling the trunk out when rummaging around in his bag for a book.

His mother's trunk, like the bag, was worn but well taken care of despite its apparent age. Like the bag, it had strong blood wards and was more than it appeared. It was a plain trunk devoid of any names or crests but had an odd-looking lock on the front. It hummed with now-familiar magic when he touched it. Not having the key, he put a drop of blood onto the lock, and it then clicked open for him at the touch of a finger. A small pocket opened, revealing a key ring and a scroll.

He picked them up curiously. The scroll seemed to be a manual of some kind, on old yellowed parchment detailing the features of the trunk. The tiny keys were old looking skeleton keys like Gringotts keys.

There were seven of them. When he picked one up to look at it more closely, it to, pricked his finger, drawing blood. He jumped and glared at it. It tingled as if it had tasted him.

As it pricked his finger, it shivered a moment, and then grew. It was now larger than the previously minuscule Gringotts key. He peered at it closely. The handle had the initials on it 'LE' and a small engraved picture of a trunk. It was a pretty key, and he looked eagerly at the others. Each pricked his finger and grew. Each one had his mother's initials and a different symbol; a book, a cauldron, an apple, a wardrobe, a door, a desk and a bed.

He put the one with a trunk into the lock, and it opened with a click. The first compartment seemed to be a standard trunk but bigger on the inside. It also seemed to have pockets or small sections for everything. It was not just one big space to throw everything in higgledy-piggledy. It was organised and filled with letters, chocolate frog cards, some muggle paperbacks, surprisingly, some divination things and a few other nicknacks.

There seemed to be a map of the Hogwarts grounds and castle, along with the forest. Both looked to be an old copy of the one from Hogwarts, A History, but with tiny annotations added. The annotations had things like, 'good classroom for practising potions in', 'good study space,' 'Peeves haunts here' or 'don't duel in this room, crap wards.' There were also notes on the grounds and along the edge of the forest saying things like 'bowtruckle tree,' 'mallow sweet grows here,' and 'honking daffodils here.' It looked like his mother had started mapping the grounds and school, but with more exciting bits and anecdotes added in. He closed the trunk lid with a smile, eager to have a closer look later.

He slid the key with a book on it into the lock next. The second compartment was, like the first, much bigger on the inside. It looked like a library, with rows and rows of books. When Harry tentatively touched a shelf it seemed to move as if scrolling upward to reveal more shelves. Some of which were full, some of which were empty.

Harry could see the newt level textbooks, along with many further advanced books. To his delight, there were also diaries, and stacks of notebooks filled with what he hoped to be more of her class notes. There were also rows of novels; some muggle, some magical. There was also a row of thick dictionaries in other languages, Latin, Ancient Greek, French, Mermish, Goblin, Bulgarian along with several runic dictionaries including Norse, Celtic, Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphs, Mayan Glyphs, Sumerian Cuneiform, and Phoenician.

Well, the Goblin and the Mermish would undoubtedly come in handy. So might the French and Bulgarian, at least for translating the insults they'd spat at him before the first task. He was itching to look at all the books!

The next compartment was a wardrobe. One half was a hanging space, with dresses, robes, coats, cloaks and skirts hung on neat wooden coat-hangers. The other half was a chest of drawers, filled with neatly folded stacks of shirts, pants and (Harry blushed) undergarments, along with a space for shoes down the bottom.

The next compartment was odd. It seemed to be like a typical trunk, but colder. It was divided into three spaces. One was chilly and had several bottles of Butterbeer and pumpkin juice in it. The middle section was not cold but had several pieces of fruit and packets of cereal. The last section was warm, like a warming oven.

Harry pulled out the manual scroll and looked it up. This compartment was for food. Designed to keep fresh any food put into it, and keep it hot or cold for as long as needed. Harry grinned. This would mean he no longer had to go hungry at the Dursley's. Not that he was planning on ever going back, but this would mean, he never had to be hungry again.

He could get Dobby and Winky to help him pack it ahead of time for the holidays, so he would have enough meals! This was brilliant! It even had a small barrel in one corner that seemed to be, when he studied the runes more closely, ever filling with fresh water. Not potions quality water, he suspected but clean cold water, perfect for drinking. How clever! He'd never be required to be thirsty again! It was small enough that he could fit it into one of Dudley's bulky pockets. He'd never be stuck in the sun at Privet Drive with no water again!

The next compartment seemed to be for potion brewing. The top half turned into a set of shelves and drawers, again bigger than it should have been, for ingredients, equipment and completed potions. The bottom half seemed to transform into an old fashioned school desk with a bench attached.

He peered closely at the desk itself. It was clearly well used, covered in old stains and marks. But carved into the wooden desktop, was containment and shielding runes. Almost exactly the same as the ones he'd come up with to use in potions class. A large pentagram with a circle of neatly carved runic text just inside the circle.

He grinned and peered closely at them. They were done slightly differently from how he'd done it. Still, it was ingenious and perhaps even more effective. And she'd incorporated several timers into the desktop so she could keep track of several different timings at once.

His mother was brilliant!

What was even neater, however, was that some of the drawers still had ingredients in them, and somehow they still seemed fresh. He cast a few detection charms, and like the food compartment, it seemed to be covered in strong preservation charms and runic arrays. He peered into the drawers of ingredients. There was a surprising amount, and several of the harder to find varieties. To his relief, there was lots of Gillyweed, Lacewing Flys, Bicorn-horn, Boomslang skin, Wolfsbane and Bezoars, just to name a few. He let out a happy sigh. This would make things easier. He could now brew some Polyjuice too for a quick disguise when he needed it. It wouldn't be done in time for the Yule Holiday but, it kept. He could brew some preemptively for escaping during the summer if Dumbledore somehow forced him back.

There were more notebooks and books here too. One of which seemed to be a massive and well-worn tome. It was heavily annotated by two different hands but seemed to be the potion masters companion. This was a huge and very hard to get text that was used to train for Potion Mastery's. Harry wondered if his mother had been planning on becoming a Potions Master.

Harry had tried to find a copy himself, but there was none in the library. Even now, when he understood better, he still somehow managed to screw potions up. And he had no idea why. It was so frustrating. And no-one seemed able to explain it to him.

Apparently, most people were not talented enough or good enough, or in-tuned and sensitive enough to need that level of detail in a teaching text. But having that intrinsic sense for potions, meant you''d need the book, as clearly, his mother had. It had been the only book he had ever heard of that listed what ingredients reacted with what and why. That would hopefully help Harry figure out what his problem with potions was. Or maybe it was something to do with his inability to sense his own magic...

Another interesting looking book seemed to be one his mother and her friend wrote themselves. It was titled "Everything you ever need to know about potions: a dunderhead's guide. By the Half-blood Prince and the Flower."

It seemed that Sev and His mother had written a book! It started out as some kind of potions encyclopaedia, an introduction, but it ended up as so much more! It had every ingredient imaginable; what it did and how it reacted with different things, where it was found, and how to grow and harvest it.

The book ended up as a massive amalgamation of interesting notes; pages and pages of notes, useful bits of textbooks, heavily edited with many snarky and sarcastic comments. It was a delight how cynical and sarcastic his mother and her friend were. They were hilarious.

It even went into the intricacies of why things acted as they did! Which was what most people seemed to not care about, be he thought was very important. It seemed to heavily reference the Potion Masters Guide and almost completely rewrote and restructured the introductory texts as well as the advanced ones.

His mother and Sev then went a step further and made an enormous folding out table of correspondence listing the different ingredients. It even had a whole chapter on how magic affected potions and how a wizards use of magic while brewing, and the feel of the potion, affected its success. Harry blinked. Maybe that was why he had such trouble? He couldn't feel his magic and therefore, couldn't channel it right. Perhaps that was also Neville's problem. He seemed to have difficulty channelling his magic too. Maybe Harry should mention it? Maybe Neville had blocks as well. Or maybe, Neville's wand was unsuited. Harry had noticed it felt a little funny when Neville was using it in comparison to when Hermione used hers.

His mother's potion book also seemed to have every potion they had ever brewed or improved, and detailed many failed attempts and why they failed as they tried to create new potions. It also had several that she and her friend had invented.

It seemed that they had at one point gotten a hold of The Master Book, and re-wrote it making it better. Which is what Journeyman Potioneers used when studying for their masteries. The Mastery book itself was great but was not the most to the point book. It was also big, heavy, expensive and hard to get. So they had condensed it and made a smaller version, just for them to use as a reference.

They'd charmed their book to look smaller than it was. It was still a large book, but it was lighter, and had more pages on the inside than the outside. Which in itself was a brilliant piece of charms work. He reckoned it would probably be more useful than all his potion texts put together. His mother was funny, cynical (like Sev) and the book was peppered with sarcastic, snarky comments amidst all the information.

Sure enough, in Sev's snarky writing was a note, "most morons are too dunderheaded and are not talented enough, strong enough or in-tuned enough to need any of this. They will never experiment, never create, and will never feel potions for what it is. An art. But some might, as we will. So we will make this, for those that can feel it. Morons."

Harry wasn't sure what that meant, but it was a useful book. He closed the book with a frown at the thought of Professor Snape, before putting it out of his mind.

Harry used the key with the desk on it next. That compartment had a set-up much like the potions compartment, but instead, the shelves and drawers were designed for writing supplies, homework and books. Lined up here were stacks and stacks of completed homework assignments and like his bag, bound notebooks full of class notes.

On the desk, however, was a typewriter. Harry peered at it. It hummed with magic, and after checking the manual learnt that it was magicked to allow edits to be made, and for the text to look mostly like standard Wizarding handwriting. This apparently made writing essays and things much quicker. That would be useful. Snape was always complaining about his handwriting. And it didn't seem to matter how much he worked at it. It was still atrocious. His hands just didn't work right. He could clench his fists and had good reflexes, but his fine motor control was just shot for some reason.

It was a good size. The desk was small enough to fit onto the little platform he'd made in his cupboard but big enough on the inside to give him as much space as he needed to spread out his work. That had been the only problem with his cupboard. He could not spread as many books and notes out around him on the floor as he wanted. Wizarding space was amazing! The trunk's desk seemed much bigger within the confines of the trunk than it logically should have been!

He closed the trunk, unlocked the next compartment. It opened and transformed into a bed. Complete with a bedside table. It looked comfortable too, with a lamp on the headboard, and a warm patchwork blanket in black and green. It looked like his mum's blanket, but the colours were different, and the magic felt different, but vaguely familiar...

It would be much more comfortable than his ratty bed at the Dursley's! At the Dursley's he had a metal camp bed with a crappy falling apart baby mattress and far too many loose springs poking into him at all angles. Really, the floor was more comfortable there!

Harry opened the bedside table door; more books. These ones seemed to be notebooks, and he pulled them out. Most were only half full and seemed to be for all the current projects she'd been working on when she died. He pressed a hand to his mouth. Her last diary and a notebook on warding and protection... He wondered if it would have how she had protected him in it. She also had a book on mapping, on her trunk project, and on languages. She'd been planning on learning with Language potions! There were also the notebooks she'd been using for her mastery studies, potions and charms.

How on earth did the notebooks get updated if the trunk had been at Hogwarts when she died at Godric's Hollow?!

There was also a thick sketch pad and pencils box. He opened it carefully. Pages and pages of sketches; Hogwarts, her friends, of him as a baby... His mother had been more of a drawer than a painter. Harry himself was terrible at drawing; not nearly as good as his mother who seemed to be able to capture a photo like quality in her pencil and ink sketches.

Harry himself had taken up watercolour painting, in the summer after first year. He wasn't that good, but it was cathartic and relaxing. It was somehow more comfortable for him to control a brush than a pen. Locked in Dudley's second bedroom with nothing to do, he'd started sifting through all the junk and had found a sketch pad and paints. He'd picked it up on a whim and had ended up painting his time at Hogwarts; like a painted diary instead of a written one.

He'd been so lonely and traumatised after his first year. When he was locked up in his room, he wondered if the Wizarding world had forgotten him, or abandoned him. In his more hungry hours, he wondered if he'd imagined it all and was he a murderer because Quirrell had died?

He'd started painting; the hut on the rock with Hagrid in the doorway, silhouetted by lightening, Diagon Alley, Olivanders and his first wand, Gringotts, the platform, Hogwarts Express, Hogwarts and the lake viewed from the boat, the Great Hall, the Quidditch Pitch, Fluffy, Norbert, Quirrell, Snape, the unicorn... the gauntlet protecting the stone, each of the traps, Ron on the floor of the chest board, the mirror, Quirrell burning; everything. It had been absolving and something to anchor his memories into reality with. Which when he was feeling weak and crazy from the hunger, he'd needed.

He'd missed painting. It was a habit he'd never really stopped. He didn't have time to paint at Hogwarts and was too scared of getting teased for such a 'girly' past time. But he missed it at school. Maybe he could paint the walls of his cupboard. He'd always wanted to. Or maybe the floor of his potions platform. He'd paint the night sky on it and maybe enchant it to move with the stars. Maybe Dobby could pick up his sketch pad from the Dursley's. He always left it under the floorboards.

He'd like to paint again, the goblet, the shack, maybe his new cupboard. He would love to paint Night-Sky-Scales; the Horntail, as well. She'd been beautiful. He liked painting beautiful things. She had nice lines, and the colouring would be a nice challenge to get just right. And the way her fire lit up the night sky...

He wouldn't mind painting Firenze too. His colouring was nice, subtle, with blond hair, tan skin bending seamlessly into a palomino coat, he'd be nice to paint. And maybe some of the Bowtruckles he was becoming friendly with. And Dobby and Winkey, they'd done so much for him.

He sighed and put the books away to look at later. The last compartment was odd. Instead of the bottom of a trunk, it was simply a dark hole, with a ladder in it.

Puzzled, he looked at the notes again and realised it was all her handwriting. He was stunned. She'd made this trunk. Not entirely, but mostly. She'd made this and had written up the manual for her creation. She must have been a genius.

He hoped he would one day live up to her intelligence, and that he was even half as smart as she had been. She had taken a two-compartment trunk and transfigured it, used runes and arithmancy on it to make it more. He was stunned. She'd added the extra compartments and made them into what they were. She'd even managed to put a room in it and was working on making it turn into a tent, but hadn't gotten to try it. He'd have to see if he could finish it for her.

Carefully climbing down the ladder, he reached the bottom and muttered, "Lumos."

Lanterns on the wall lit up, revealing a wooden room. In one corner was the bed, that now seemed to be a bunk bed. Harry wondered who the other bed was for... His father was an ass, so he didn't think his mother would have shared this with him. Her friend Sev? Professor Snape, he meant? But they stopped being friends after fifth year, so it must have been for someone else. Not Petunia, she hated magic. Maybe his mother had another close friend?

The desk was along the wall next to it, with the bookshelves. It was was longer now, half study desk, half potions. There was the wardrobe at the end of the bed on one side of the ladder. On the other side was a door to a small bathroom. Under the bed was the drawer full of the nicknacks from the first compartment. It seemed that you could access every other aspect of the trunk from inside this room.

Opposite the bed was a fire place with two armchairs. In the final corner was a kitchenette with a scrubbed wooden table. It was a really cozy looking little room. It was small and seemed perfect. It was a bit like the inside of Mr Weasley's tent. Small but with everything you needed in it.

He peered around closely. There was a window painted into the wall over the bench in the kitchen. It seemed to show a section of moonlit grounds. He wondered if it were enchanted like the Great Hall was or if it would always show that. The floor, like the walls and ceiling, was wooden. But there was a thick woollen rug in front of both the fireplace and the bed.

There were dried herbs and plants and things hanging from the ceiling. Some plants had died while not being in a preservation ward; the bonsai on the desk, a vine of some kind hanging over the small fridge-like wooden cabinet. But the dried plants and things hanging had clearly been preserved potion ingredients.

There were also a few tanks on the wall. One looked like it had once been a fish tank, and one seemed to have held some type of reptile at one point. There was also an owl perch in the corner, and a basket that looked like it had belonged to a cat.

He wondered if his mother had liked animals as much as he did. He liked cats, though he'd hated Mrs Figg's. Hers stank of cat and cabbage and always seemed to be watching him, spying on him. But he'd liked Crookshanks. Maybe he'd be able to have one one day. Or a snake? He'd like to have something he could talk to, or rather that could talk back. And that perch would be perfect for Hedwig. He'd have to see if Winky could put an owl portal for her in the trunk as well, like she had in his cupboard.

He went over to the desk and pulled out his mother's potion book. Taking it over to the hearth. He lit the fire and curled up in the armchair in front of the warmth under the black and green blanket. Harry spent the night reading the book.

He ended up nodding off and falling off the chair very early the next morning. Instead of climbing out of the trunk, he went into the bathroom, had a shower and borrowed a pair of pyjamas. They were black and huge on him, and for some reason he couldn't imagine his mum in black.

He slept in the trunk that night with his jar of bluebell flames and a fire in the fireplace. He'd missed the sound of a smouldering fire since leaving Gryffindor. He snuggled down in his mother's bed, under her green blanket and fell asleep breathing in her scent from her pillow. It was bittersweet and nostalgic.

There was a tiny part of him that wished he hadn't asked, hadn't gotten to know her. Because now she was a real tangible person. Someone he was connected to. Now he had someone to miss, not just an idea or concept.

Because now he missed her terribly.

Severus jumped and shot off a rather deadly hex, before allowing himself to swear violently when the Bloody Barron drifted into his bedroom just as he was drifting off to sleep.

"Do you mind?" He said irritably staring at the ghost.

"There is another snake nesting in your dungeons," the ghost said in the way of greeting.

Severus sighed and sat up, pulling a blanket around his shoulders. This was going to be one of those conversations.

"I thought so," he said, "I am almost certain they are taking refuge in the lower dungeons. I haven't caught them yet, but you have just confirmed my suspicions."

The Barron said nothing, just stared at him dolefully.

"Not one of our green-clad nestlings, is it?" Severus asked.

He knew everything that happened in his house and with his Snakes. So it was not one of them. They knew to come to him if they were having house issues that prevented them from going to the common room.

"Indeed it is not," was all the Barron said before drifting out through the wall. He left Severus with the impression that the infuriating ghost knew precisely who it was and where they were hiding, but wasn't going to tell him.

0o0o0o0o0

Notes on the runes-alphabets mentioned

These are basically all old alphabets or writing systems that can be used in rune work. Sumerian Cuneiform are the pictograms used in Mesopotamia, one of the oldest known writing systems.

Similarly Mayan Glyphs are also pictograms

And Pheonician alphabet in an early Canaanite alphabet used in west Asia.

For more info check out Wikipedia or

Ancientscriots dot com

Also I'm not a linguist, so please ignore any minor errors.


	38. Chapter 38 Last Few Things Before Break

TRIGGER WARNINGS!

This one has some trigger warnings! The details are at the bottom of the page for anyone who wants to check them.

If I put them here they'll contain spoilers for everyone.

Happy Reading

Oh and a few people have been asking when I update, I update every saturday morning, Australian time (GMT+10)

0o0o0o0o0

The last week of term passed slowly. The weather got colder, the snow continued to fall, covering the ground in white, and the lake started to freeze around the edges. Harry wondered if it would freeze enough that year for them to skate on. Hermione certainly had made it sound like fun, and from what he'd read, his mother had enjoyed it too. Hermione had promised to teach him if the it froze enough.

The tension in between the Gryffindors and Hermione, Fred, George and Neville, however was only building. Fred and George relentlessly pranked the whole house and anyone who had a go at them, thereby keeping themselves safe from being hexed into submission. And Neville seemed good at not being noticed. Hermione, however, was no so lucky.

Hermione was now getting hexed and teased by the Gryffindors just as much as Harry was. It was just as well the two of them had been practising duelling and other (muggle) methods of defence, as it came rather in handy during the rest of the term. The Gryffindors were very good at getting them while out of sight of the teachers.

Hermione and Harry had taken to using as many secret passageways, and the cloke to get to class as often as possible. When not in class or in the Room of Requirement, they were in the library sitting close to Madame Pince's desk where no-one would dare try and hex them. It was exhausting. But Hermione was determined to right the wrong her house had done Harry. Or at least teach them the error of their ways. And while Harry didn't like it, he accepted his friends choice and was warmed by her determination on his behalf.

Harry was very relieved to have the snake passages to avoid everyone with. Something that Hermione had been fascinated with and had then insisted he try to teach her Parseltongue. So far, it with little success. But between still being hexed in the corridors and the usual staring, and whispering, Harry much preferred the dark narrow stone passageways that were hiden behind the snakes. Hermione, however fascinated she was, did not enjoy the small dark spaces as much as Harry did.

When he wasn't in the library with Hermione, or out in the forest, he spent most of the time in the lower dungeons, in his cupboard or his trunk, generally huddled over a hot cauldron or around his bluebell flames with a book and his notes.

He spent as little time as possible in the main school, or at least away from the people of the main school. The castle was getting increasingly boisterous, and seemed to have been overcome with the hype of the Yule Ball. The Hogwarts staff seemed intent on continuing to make a good impression on their visitors. And Harry wondered bitterly if it was partly due to his 'embarrassingly poor performance' at the first task.

The suits of armour had all been re-polished until they shone and were bewitched to sing carols when anyone passed. It was a bit disconcerting to hear "0 Come, All Ye Faithful" and "god rest ye merry Hippogriff," sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words. Though it was very funny when Peeves managed to get himself inside them and replaced the lyrics with rude reinventions of his own.

Harry thought bitterly that if only the staff put as much effort into actually making Hogwarts safe, as they did with making her look good! Then maybe Harry wouldn't have to put so much effort into staying out of sight, just to keep himself safe.

But they seemed determined to show the castle at her best for Christmas. The decorations that went up were the most stunning Harry had ever seen. There were everlasting icicles on the banisters, huge Christmas trees in the Hall ladened with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and real fairy's flitting amongst the candles. There were holly and mistletoe decking the halls and walls, and more floating candles than Harry had ever seen in his entire life.

There was also a mouthwateringly spicy Christmas scent in the air all the time now. When not hidden away like the introverted hermit he was, Harry had taken to sitting at the end of one of the longhouse tables in the kitchens. It felt homey down there, especially when he was surrounded by elves bake up a storm filling the school with that yummy scent. That and Dobby kept sneaking him bits of Christmas cookie dough and the cookies that turned out slightly less than perfect! Tippy was even kind enough to 'not notice.'

The Hogwarts elves also seemed to delight in Dobby and Winkey being 'Harry's' elves. It seemed the perfect excuse to ignore Dumbledore's hash order in regards to starving Harry whenever they could. They seemed to delight in being able to follow their orders to a T and still aggressively spoil and look after Harry through Dobby and Winky.

Harry was now never without a full stomach and was constantly finding snacks in his bags and extra blankets on his bed. It was a nice change, Dobby and Winkey were excellent, but it was nice to know the Castle elves now has enough wriggle room to sneakily have his back too. Harry could tell that the castle was happy with the change to the status quo as well.

But while the castle was looking nice, Yule Ball fever seemed to have taken over the student population. Harry wasn't sure if he was pleased that they finally had something else to talk about that wasn't him, or irritated by it. He certainly felt he was the only person in the whole castle that was dreading it. He was not at all looking forward to it and had taken to desperately checking the mail each day for word from Rodgrip.

Rumours were flying about the Yule Ball, and Harry was pretty sure at least half of them were false. For instance, Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. While the man was negligent to the point of criminal, Harry didn't think he'd let his students get drunk, as much as some of them seemed keen on the idea. It did seem to be taken as fact though, that he had booked the Weird Sisters. Harry didn't know who they were, never having had access to a wizard's wireless, but he worked out that they were a very famous musical group.

Despite this, Harry did not feel at all like he was missing out by avoiding the whole thing. In fact, the more he heard about the ball, and the more people that got excited about it, the more he longed to be away from it all. The ball was all anyone could talk about. Thankfully it seemed that Harry wasn't the only one sick of hearing people go about it.

The teacher's too were affected. Some like little Professor Flitwick, gave up trying to teach them much at all, when it was clear they would (almost) all rather be talking about the ball. He allowed them to practice Christmas related charms and various cosmetic charms in his lesson on Wednesday. Harry was very pleased that he managed to sit up the back under a discrete notice-me-not charm, and actually get some work done instead.

Other teachers were not so generous. Nothing would ever deflect Professor Binns, from drowning on about goblin rebellions. Harry figured that if the ghost didn't let a little thing like being dead stop him, he wasn't going to be stopped by something as frivolous as a ball. It was amazing how he could make even bloody and vicious goblin riots sound as boring as Percy's cauldron-bottom report. And really! The whole topic was infuriating! Wizards had treated everyone else so appallingly, throughout history, that it was no wonder the goblins kept rioting. Harry sighed, pulling out one of his mother's history text's instead. Her snarky notes in the margins on various riots were far more interesting.

Professors McGonagall and Moody too, kept them working until the very last second of their classes. Professor Snape, of course, was about as uninterested in the coming holidays as Harry was. Instead, he made them study for a poison & antidotes test during the last lesson of the term. A test Harry had been studying hard for, but knowing Snape's hatred, was worried he'd fail. It was too important a subject to fail though. Not when so many people would be out to get him. He really should make a ring or something he could wear that would detect poisons...

Harry had finished the purging potions and spent a night sleeping on the roof under the moon while the potions cured, too paranoid to leave them up there alone. It was cold but wonderful. Though, being in such an open space to sleep took a bit of getting used to.

Unfortunately, while the potion was the right colour, it was ever so slightly too thick. Harry, despite knowing he had followed the direction to the T, worried it would not work. He had no idea what he'd done wrong. But he could only hope that his inability to feel his own magic, and therefore regulate how it interacted with his potion ingredients and brewing, had not screwed it up too badly.

He looked for a time-turner in the Room of Requirement but had no luck. Not only could the room not manipulate time, but the only time-turner he did find was broken. It was stuck in an endless, and creepy, cycle of breaking and mending itself. It was frankly rather disturbing. Especially when he'd pocked it with a twig he'd filched from an old falling apart broom. The twig got caught up in the leaking time loop and started blooming and withering.

Harry had hastily drawn a very strong containment ward around it, that Bill had shown him, before using an equally strong banishment charm on the whole thing. As Bill had warned, the spell had made a loud crack like a gun, and an impressive scorch mark on the floor, but thankfully the thing was gone.

He'd also been working though his mother's books. She'd had a copy of "Powers You Never Knew You Had & What To Do With Them Now You've Wised Up." It was the same book Tonks had recommended to him. Unfortunately he'd started it and was disappointed to find that Tonks was right. It had little in the way of metamorph-magic and overall was more interesting in title than in content. Judging from the snarky annotations from his mother and the sarcastic ones from Sev, they'd agreed with him.

Harry had also taken to typing up his homework essays on his mother's typewriter. It was surprisingly easy to use. Especially when Harry realised it also did take dictation, corrected spelling and grammar and allowed him to add or remove portions of typed text with ease. It was much easier on his hands too, which still cramped, and locked up during long periods of writing. It was also still far more legible than his own handwriting. Despite lots of care and practice, it was still pretty bad.

Harry got the impression the Professor Flitwick may have recognised the typeface, which his mother had charmed to look like handwriting and worried that Professor Snape would too. He didn't want it getting out that he had access to his mother's things. Especially when Dumbledore had worked so hard to keep him stupid. He didn't need to give that man any more reasons to scrutinise him any more than he already was in the wake of the Quibbler article. Luckily Professor Flitwick just commented on how much more legible it was and left it at that.

As for Snape; Harry was still avoiding him like the plague. He had even gone as afar to beg Hagrid not to mention to Snape that the potion ingredient they regularly collected, were picked by Harry as well. Harry was too terrified that the man would throw them out or take his hatred of Harry out on Hagrid. They'd worked hard for some of those ingredients.

Snape, noticed both those things but said nothing. He recognised the unique print of his friend's typewriter of course, but was more relieved at having readable essays for a change. He also recognised that the ingredients had been collected another person as well. He was a potion master, of course, he would recognise the slight lingering magic of the gather. But ingredients were ingredients. He didn't care who picked them for him as long as they were competent it it.

Hermione kept teaching Harry to dance. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and he hated it. He hated being touched, hated being so close, and he hated having to touch her. Each lesson ended up being an exercise in controlling and suppressing his panic. The more he forced himself to learn, and be okay with the close contact, the worse it was. He ended up feeling intensely guilty that sometimes he could touch her, and sometimes he just couldn't stand it. Why was he fine with hugging Charlie and Bill all the time, but Hermione sometimes and everyone else not at all? Why were they the exceptions? It didn't make any sense! Shouldn't he hate all touch?

Either way, Hermione was patient with him, understanding and did not take it personally the few times he leapt away from her in panic or bolted across the room out of reach. She was also rather good at dancing. Which was just as well, because Harry was rather shocking at it. He was so agitated by such intimate positioning that he had to spend most of his time holding off panic. He was sure that without her patience, persistence and talent, he would make a fool of them both, for sure, at the ball.

Fred and George started teaching him to swim in a pool the room of requirement provided. They kindly did not question him about his scars, or stair at them. He wasn't as ashamed of them anymore, Rodgrip had been right, they were proof of his strength and his ability to survive. They were proof that he was still here. But he still hated being stared at and appreciated their lack of staring. He figured they were used to scars from all of Charlie's burns.

He also still felt uncomfortably vulnerable around others with no shirt on. But Fred and George were good teachers. They somehow made the swimming lessons fun, playing lots of tricks on each other and goofing around, to distract Harry from just how nervous being in the water made him.

He had started going for a swim in the morning instead of a run. It was freezing, and there was ice on the top of the water, but it was unfortunately good practice. At least he got good at warming, melting and heating charms.

All in all, swimming eventually became rather enjoyable and almost relaxing (when he wasn't freezing his bits off). It was also not nearly as uncomfortable for Harry as dancing anyway. At least when swimming, he didn't have to get up close and personal with anyone. It was silly he scolded himself. It wasn't like he had to kiss or get naked with anyone while ballroom dancing, but it still felt horribly intimate and he hated it, hated it, hated it.

He also still hadn't found a replacement dress robe yet. He'd found a few old fashioned ones in the Room of Requirement, but he really didn't want to go at all. He was having trouble mustering up the enthusiasm to find a pair that did not look like a neon children's dress. Especially since he needed a set that would not clash with Hermione's dress and make her look like a fool.

End of term testing started that same week, and Harry insisted that he participate despite being exempt from exams because of his 'champion status.'

"I need to know what my progress is," he'd told Professor Sprout when she'd asked what he was doing, "how else will I know what I need to work on for next term?"

The tests were all surprisingly simple. With all the studying Harry had done, he felt a little disappointed by the lack of a challenge they'd presented. Though he was pleased and a little proud at his vast improvement.

He met with the four Slytherins on Wednesday night. After practising the Patronus charm, (they had all produced silver mist by that point) he broached the subject of the dance.

"The ball," he said with great reluctance, making Zabini groan and Parkinson look at him sharply.

"I was wondering if Wizarding dances are different from muggle dances. Hermione has been teaching me, but my Head of House says I have to open the ball. I do not wish to make a fool of myself."

"Ooh," Parkinson squealed clapping her hands, "yes, and more deportment too! You're coming along really well in etiquette, but there is a whole other side to it we haven't really touched yet! And presentation!" She clapped her hands again, looking more excited and passionate than Harry had ever seen her.

"You're in for it now," Nott muttered in a 'better you than me,' sort of voice.

Harry watched as Parkinson yanked Greengrass closer to her side and started muttering furiously, glancing at him and pointing every so often. Harry had to force himself not to squirm.

"I need all the help I can get," Harry said glumly, dread building in his gut.

"You do," said Zabini, "but she's right. You're picking this up remarkably fast. You don't seam so green anymore. Though, you do need help with presentation. Your hair's atrocious! But your new glasses are a vast improvement" he said with a critical eye. "You should take the Etiquette & Culture OWL."

"Most Purebloods take it the summer before fifth as an easy and early OWL, often taking Politics and Estate Management as well. It's normally something we're raised with so it's easy. But if you work at it, you might manage an okay pass grade this summer." Nott added in.

"I'm working on Politics, and Estate Management already," Harry said, "I have the WEA syllabus, but it's harder on my own."

"You have the syllabus? Brilliant, any other subjects?" Nott asked

"All of them,"

"Right that's it," Nott said rather business-like, "I have heard about your first and second-year study group. We're setting one up too. We can work on it together. We don't have tutors here, we owl work to them at home. We'll add your work to ours if you like. It will be easier with the lot of us."

"What's in it for you?" Harry asked cautiously, "you'd need to catch me up to where you're at."

Nott actually grinned at him, "now you're learning to think like a proper snake! We get access to the syllabus, which isn't often given out. You get access to tutoring you really need. We do better by working together. Each gets something from the other. Win-win. Oh, and I guess you can bring Granger too. I hear she's wicked smart."

Harry refrained from pointing out they could probably have just owled for their own copy but wondered if it was because of his name that they'd given him one. But then he decided he didn't care. He needed all the help he could get and besides, he was honestly getting the better end of the deal.

Privately, he'd surmised that maybe they liked having someone to tutor and boss around and shape into a good little Pureblood snake. Harry was happy to let them. For the moment. It was useful. He was learning loads that he really needed to, and they were surprisingly good company.

"Okay, but my study group isn't just Hermione at the moment. Hermione is great at Transfiguration. Neville is a Herbology wiz and is also good at the Pureblood stuff. He's also going for a few early OWLs if he can persuade his Gran. There's also Fred and George, who are more brilliant than they let on," Harry said in a matter of fact voice.

Nott looked at him slightly wearily for a moment but said, "as long as their civil, we'll be civil."

"Besides, it's far more effective to teach you lot defence when there are more people to practice with," Harry said with a sly smile, making Zabini smirk.

They spent all that night dancing. It was even harder to contain his panic and desire to run, while dancing with them, than it was with Hermione. It was a disaster. Harry had come to like the Slytherins, but that wasn't enough to stop the panic. It made his skin crawl and his breathing shallow. He managed to clamp down on it for a good 15 minutes as Greengrass walked him through the moves, but he was starting to sweat and shake uncontrollably. He hated it. He hated the dancing, and he hated his weakness, for letting it show.

In the end, Parkinson frowned, before she vanished and reappeared, dragging a confused Hermione behind her. The Slytherin's ended up instructing them both instead of practising with Harry. That helped. It wasn't pleasant, but it was easier to control the panic when it was Hermione.

They kept practising, working at every spare moment. They were also joined by Hermione, Neville and Luna along with the Weasley twins (when they weren't up to no good.) Then again, to Harry's surprise, by Millicent Bulstrode and Tracy Davis. Both were surprisingly pleasant.

It didn't go badly. Once the Slytherins got over being frosty and distrustful to the Gryffindors, and vice versa, the lot of them got on relatively well. The girls seemed to rather enjoy the dancing, and Harry had to admit he was getting better. He really did need all the help he could get. But it was a good opportunity to practice his Occlumency and control. It was exhausting though.

The following evening, they danced for a good hour or so before the Slytherin girls pounced on him.

"You really need to do something about that hair of yours," Greengrass said, as Parkinson and David herded them into one of the empty bathrooms deep in the dungeons along with Hermione and Luna. They were followed by an amused looking Bulstrode and Zabini who just sat on one of the benches and smirked at Harry's pleading look.

The girls used four bottles of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion on Harry's hair. It made no difference, to the girls utter annoyance. Bulstrode just cackled in delight at their failure and frustration, and Zabini seemed offended on the potion's behalf. Really, it was rather funny Harry mused when washing all the gunk off his hair in the sink.

"I don't think they've ever been beaten by someone's hair before!" Bulstrode crowed with delight, which was almost as good as a grin from the dour girl.

"It's a travesty," drawled Zabini, "that potion normally works miracles. Pity, it didn't work." Zabini continued, though not in an unkind way. Harry was used to his hair defying all odds, and their horror was rather amusing.

Instead, they ended up using the potions on Hermione. It worked brilliantly. They'd first managed to tame it straight, and wrestle it into submission. But then they had tried again and ended up finding just the right combination of potion and spells to make her hair cooperate with her. It was now curly, not just the frizzy chaotic mess it normally was. She was rather pleased with it. Especially when she managed to put it back into a neat ponytail of pretty curls for the first time in her life, without it looking like a giant ball of fluff.

They were all much more pleased by that achievement and gave Harry's appearance up as a lost cause. He did learn several dressing and appearance charms that were actually quite useful, however.

His small tutoring group with the three first year Slytherins somehow grew to include the whole first year Slytherins, as well as second years and a very shy third year. Harry was a bit stumped by it, honestly. They seemed to actually like him. He didn't understand it at all but wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. They were a bit less hostile than the older ones. Still, they thought in such an intrinsically Slytherin way. It was refreshingly relatable after spending all his time around Gryffindors.

Really though, with all the Slytherins he'd been around lately, it was almost as if they liked him, or were trying to sneakily adopt him. And really why on earth would they want to do that? His own house didn't even want him! His own relatives didn't even want him. He did not understand them at all! What on earth was wrong with them?

Professor McGonagall cornered him before History on Friday morning.

"Potter!" She called as he was about to slip into a secret passageway and out of sight.

He sighed and turned back to face her. She looked frazzled but no less intimidating.

"Walk with me, Mr Potter," she said clearly in a rush.

Moving briskly down the corridor, she left him with no other option than to go with her, unless he wanted to be rude and risk a detention.

"Why have you not signed your name up to stay over break like the rest of your house?" She demanded.

"The sheet is in the Common Room. I expect you to have your name on it by the end of classes if you don't want more point losses."

Harry, feeling rather mutinous, ignored her and slipped into a secret passage. A snake passage, in case she tried to follow him and appeared in the back of his history class. He wanted more than anything to stand up to her and point blank refuse to do what she said. But as angry as he was, he knew it wasn't the intelligent choice. It was just the hot-headed Gryffindor one.

He didn't know yet if he was contractually obliged to go, and drawing attention before he knew that, would just be foolish. Better to play along and sneak out when no-one was watching for it. He really hoped that Rodgrip would get back to him soon. The train would be leaving the following day, and Harry really wanted to be on it.

Harry, as usual, had little idea what Binns was actually talking about while he handed back their exams. Instead, Harry was huddled with Neville and the four Slytherins pouring over the actual history assessments from the WEA. Harry jumped when he felt something vibrate in his bag against his thigh. He quickly glanced up, then opened the bag and eagerly pulled out his Gringotts box. He had to stop himself, biting his lip with apprehension. He kept his face blank, ignoring the others curious looks.

Harry was very relieved to see Rodgrip's note.

"Warrior,

The ball is mentioned in the rules as traditional but nowhere does it specifically say in your contract that you must participate in it. Only the tasks and the wand weighing. From both the tournament rules and your contract, they cannot make you go.

Furthermore, because Dumbledore basically said you were an adult in agreeing to let you participate, he cannot place any new rules upon you as your guardian. Therefore, he cannot stop you leaving the castle for the break (especially if your muggle guardian agrees) as such a situation has not happened before. While you are not emancipated and can't override his previous decisions regarding you, he cannot make new ones either until he is reinstated by the morons at your Ministry.

You will be at Gringotts over your Yule break.

Let us know if we need to send Cursebreaker Weasley to get you.

May your blade bite,

Rodgrip"

Harry could not restrain a grin and carefully tucked the letter and the box back in his bag.

The Slytherin's didn't ask, being too polite and not quite familiar enough to do so without it being impertinent. Neville, however, had no such qualms.

"What is it?" He asked, eagerly, "this is the happiest I've seen you all week." When the Slytherin's looked at him, Neville shrugged and said unrepentantly, "I'm a Gryffindor. I can be boldly familiar with Harry. Beside's we shared a room for four years."

Harry winced at the sharp looks they gave Neville and him at that, wondering what they may have incorrectly surmised from that comment. It was true though, after nearly four years of rooming together, they were quite used to knowing each others business.

He changed the subject, "I got an answer to whether I am contractually obliged to attend and open the dance against my will. I do not, therefore, need to go to the Ball. I can continue my holiday plans."

"You're pleased by this," Greengrass stated, fishing.

"You loathed dancing," Parkinson put in, "you hid it well, but you were stiff as a board and very pale. Even for you," she added as an afterthought.

"Exceptionally pleased," Harry said, smiling but not actually answering their probes, "I don't like it much."

"That's not going to go down well," Neville said with a nervous grin.

"Not my circus, not my monkey. There are no rules forcing me, either in the school charter or in the torment rules or contract."

Zabini smiled with cool approval, "very Slytherin, Potter."

"Thank you," he said, feeling smug.

"Don't think this gets you out of lessons," Parkinson and Greengrass said.

Harry just smiled slyly. They'd just agreed to keep tutoring him in an extra field for free.

He told Hermione in a whisper on the way to charms, too excited to not tell her. To his relief, she was thrilled and pleased he didn't need to go.

"Oh, good." She said bluntly, "I was happy to go with you and help you out, but I was asked this morning in the library to go as someone's date," she said flushing slightly.

"Oh?" He asked, "congrats. Do you want to?"

"I think I'd rather like to. I said I'd get back to him as I had an obligation to a friend that was complicated." She smiled then, and Harry could tell she was really pleased.

"You should say yes, then!" Harry said, "who is it?"

She didn't tell him who it was, and when he didn't push the matter, admitted that they got on surprisingly well. He was very polite and treated her nicely.

"Brilliant, I'm so pleased for you," Harry said. "You'll have a good time, I'm sure, by the sounds of it. You deserve it."

Professor Flitwick was calling the roll in Charms when he stopped at Harry's name, "Mr Potter, I'd like to speak to you after class please."

Filius carefully watched the boys face. But the boy didn't seem to react at all other than saying, "yes, sir."

Filius frowned, the boy had gotten much much better at hiding his emotions, he thought. He always had been, but lately, he had improved sharply. He was much more like Severus, and some of the Slytherins... hiding their vulnerable bits behind a cool, hard, flawlessly polite outer shell. He worried.

Harry, however, had a hard time focusing on his work that lesson. He was far more interested in planing where he was going to sleep over the break, instead of his revision and study for those new subjects. Which was what he should have been doing if he wasn't going to pay attention to the Professor's lecture of holiday charms.

His plans for the break were starting to look up now. He had a trunk he could stay in. That would take care of finding a place to stay for the break. Having a trunk to stay in would be much better than sleeping behind dustbins, or in empty doorways or dry storm drains. He'd just need to put a repelling charm on it, and a notice-me-not charm... and a mile stinging hex on it to deter anyone from picking it up while he was in it. He could stash it somewhere out of the way and stay in the trunk for the break. Or maybe stow it on the roof of a building in Knockturn. He'd have to scout out Knockturn properly and get a proper feel for the place first though. To see where the haunts were and the forgotten corners...

"That was a rather good notice-me-not charm, Mr Potter! 10 points," Filius said after class had been let out, he'd dismissed them and a nervously hovering Ms Granger.

The boy froze at the mention of the charm, then winced at the points.

Filius frowned, looking at the boy sharply, what was going on?

"Are you quite alright, Mr Potter?"

"Of course sir," Harry said in a flawlessly polite voice.

"I have not seen you in the Hall or in the corridors all week, Mr Potter. You and Ms Granger, and Mr Longbottom too. Are you sure you're well?" Filius pressed, come to think of it, he hadn't seen the boy at all! Not since he'd talked to him last. The Gryffindors were unusually closed-mouthed about it too. Normally they always had an opinion on the boy.

"Yes sir, I'm fine," Harry said calmly, and Filius wondered how much of it was real.

"Do drop in for tea when your back won't you, Mr Potter?" He said instead, "I've missed our lunchtime chats of books and academics. You've been avoiding me. We noticed."

Harry looked at him sharply, frozen, then his eyes narrowing fractionally. What did he know? Who noticed what? And what would they do about it?

But Professor Flitwick just smiled and said, "don't be so worried child. We're worried about you, you're mother's friend and I."

Harry didn't flinch at the mention of Professor Snape, but it was a very near thing. He felt the colour drain from his face. He'd managed to put Professor Snape out of his mind until then. He'd be in for it now. Just what he needed more detention before the break, keeping him at school.

His thoughts were interrupted by, "stay safe, won't you child, over break?"

Harry looked at the Professor sharply again, what did he know?

"But sir..." He trailed not sure where to go with that reply without actually lying.

Professor Flitwick batted a hand dismissively, "we all know you haven't put your name down to stay. I don't blame you, and if Minerva has not forced the issue, then it's probably good to get out of the castle for a bit. They'll manage without you, as they planned on it that way originally anyhow." he said, miss-interpreting Harry's expression.

"Just stay safe, child. You'd better hurry off to lunch, so you don't end up late for potions. Professor Snape has a test planed for you, I think..."

The half-goblin trailed off, frowning slightly at Harry's robes.

But Harry was not looking at him and just said, "yes sir."

Biting back the panic he gave a sharp goblin bow and all but fled the room. Leaving the professor staring at the empty doorway with a worrying frown on his face.

He had lunch in the back corner of the kitchens. It was busy, and the elves had prepared beef and Yorkshire pudding. Having never been aloud it before, Dobby made sure he had plenty. It was just as tasty as it had always smelt, and he imagined that this one tasted better as he had not been forced to make it.

Luna joined him as he was finishing. It was an odd conversation as it always was with her.

He said, in the way of greeting "I have some stories for you."

"Oh, goody, I had thought so," Luna said dreamily.

And with a sly smile, he gave her some interesting things for the Yule edition of the Quibbler.

Harry was not late to potions, but again was the last one in and sat at the back corner, where no-one could sneak up on him. Hermione looked very pleased to see him and had saved him his usual seat. It was harder for them to be hex there, and he could see everything at once.

Professor Snape gave them a particularly nasty test on antidotes that had Neville whimpering. It was still not his best subject, but Harry found it thankfully much easier than he had feared. His mother's potion books had helped enormously, and somethings were finally starting to make sense. Potions were getting much easier now he had the big book to explain everything and all the why's. In fact, he was almost disappointed with the tests lack of challenge. He had expected that at the very least, Professor Snape's would have been difficult.

Again Harry managed to ignore Snape completely, without being rude, and after finishing his test a little early, was able to slip out unnoticed with a few of the other early finishers.

Unfortunately, his bad luck struck again. Being let out early, Harry and Hermione had not entered the snake corridors, thinking that the normal ones would have been safe enough. Unfortunately, he was proven wrong when he ran into Professor McGonagall.

"What are you doing out of class, Mr Potter, Ms Granger?" She asked

"We had a test ma'am," Hermione said.

"We finished early," Harry added carefully, "we were on our way to the Library."

"We'll you'll have no trouble going up to the common room and putting your name up to stay then Potter." She said matter of factly.

Harry didn't let his eyes narrow into the glare he wanted to give. He didn't need extra trouble. Instead, he said, "I'm sorry ma'am, but I can't do that."

Professor McGonagall's lips narrowed into a thin line, and her face seemed more severe than ever.

"And why is that, Mr Potter?" She said her voice clipped.

Harry, scowled at her.

"His family have asked him home this year Professor," Hermione said earnestly, hoping her favourite processor would be reasonable this time. She was, again, disappointed.

"You have certainly never left for Christmas before, why on earth start now? You have a duty, Mr Potter. You are a champion. You will be opening the ball." She said sternly.

"I may not have left before this year, but this year I am needed elsewhere. And respectfully ma'am, I'm not a champion," he said levelly. "I was entered against my will and lacked the ability or an adult willing to stand against it for me and remove me, as I should have been. I am not a champion. I am someone being dragged along for the ride. Someone else made me do this. I did not willingly enter or take up this duty. I owe the tournament nothing.

I will compete in the tasks, as I have no choice. But I do not need to open the ball. Nor does it say anywhere in the rules that I must stay for the break." Harry said cooly.

Her lips narrowed, and he thought her eyebrows were going to disappear into her hairline.

"Follow me," she said shortly, turning on her heal, "we shall see what the headmaster has to say. Ms Granger, you can go."

Harry's heart sank, "I'll see you later then," he murmured to Hermione, who looked worried but disappeared into another secret corridor out of sight. Harry followed McGonagall and hurriedly tried to clear his mind and push everything down into the little box in his gut. He couldn't let the headmaster finding anything in his mind to read. All too soon it seemed, the gargoyle came into sight and moved to let them in. Harry reluctantly followed her up the stairs and could have sworn the Gargoyle winked at him. Harry patted its knee as he went past and hoped, futilely, that Dumbledore was out.

To his surprise, Professor Snape was there. He wondered how the professor had gotten up there so fast. Class would have just finished. Then he spotted the open fire. He must have flooed up. Why was he there?

"Ah Minerva, I'm so glad you bought Harry up," Dumbledore said genially, "I was just about to discuss Christmas with Severus here."

Harry hid a flinch at the name. How had he never realised that Sev was Severus Snape before? Really! He should have seen it earlier. He should not have been surprised, that he was his mother's friend, Sev.

Harry mentally shook himself and pushed the stray thought from his mind, focusing instead on the weave of the blue carpet.

"What seems to be the problem, Harry, my boy?" Dumbledore said continuing in that same grandfatherly voice that Harry now realised actually sounded rather demeaning and patronising.

Harry frowned at the wording but wondered idly why it had taken him so long to question it. And now he did, it made his insides roll. He'd had enough lurid and vile propositions in his time on the streets of London as a child, that he disliked the implication. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions, maybe he was overly sensitive, but he did not like what the name, 'my boy' implied.

He was no one's possession or toy. He'd had to outrun or fight off enough perverts on the streets as a child. He would not stand for the treatment at school, whether imagined or not. He had a strong dislike of the name 'my boy', and he was starting to lose patience with the old man.

"Well met Professor's," he said, remembering formalities and his manners, "but it's Mr Potter, please sir," Harry added carefully, forcing his tone to be friendly and polite.

"Harry, my boy, what...?" The man started but trailed off, looking disappointed. Harry dismissed the guilt it kindled in him.

"Now that I know about proper wizarding manners and standards of behaviours, I prefer to respect them, Headmaster, sir," he said simply, pointedly.

"Really, Harry, I don't think that's necessary," he said again, sounding disappointed and dismayed. As if Harry had let him down.

"It's just that you insist on calling me by a shortened version of my first name," Harry explained, with a calm he did not feel. "That very much implies a close familiarity. I was not aware we had such a familiarity, sir. You are my school's headmaster. I don't know you and have asked you on numerous occasions to not only not shorten my first name, but to not use the familiarity of my first name at all."

Professor McGonagall gaped at him, as did the Headmaster. Professor Snape, however, just watched worryingly closely, in Harry's opinion.

"It is rather inappropriate to call me by anything except my surname the way you do with the other students, sir, and now you go calling me 'your boy' too?" Harry continued, his voice still perfectly polite, a mildly confused expression on his face, hiding the simmering anger.

If he could keep his tone even and perfectly reasonable, they should have no reason to punish him or deny him. Of course, adults were rarely fair, but, it was worth a try all the same.

"But Harry, my boy..." tried Dumbledore one more time, and this time Harry wondered if he saw Professor Snape frown at the man.

"It implies something else entirely sir," Harry said, trying not to lose his temper at the old fart, "something incredibly illegal and inappropriate, sir. So I will say it again, I am not your boy. We are not mates, or buddies, or besties, or any kind of friends really. I did not give you leave to bastardise my first name, let alone use it at all."

McGonagall was frowning at him, "well I never! The gall, Mr Potter!"

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said again, "what gave you that idea?"

Harry clenched his jaw as he tried not to think about all the other lecherous creeps that had used it to try and entice him. He shivered. They'd talked to him like that when they wanted things. Things he would not give. Those propositions he'd run from or had fought off when he'd needed to, with a knife sometimes. He'd had to as a child who spent a lot of time on the streets.

He wanted a shower.

"I am no one's boy, and I am certainly not yours!" Harry bit out, forcing back anger, revulsion and irritation, "I will not fuck you. So don't call me your boy," he snapped crudely, loosing his temper a little at the very idea, "sir," he amended quickly.

Snape snorted, and Harry darted a look at the man, who seemed to be trying hard to suppress amusement. Harry didn't gape, but it was a near thing.

"My boy, I never! Where did you get the idea Harry," Dumbledore said mildly.

"Sir, you're not listening to me. Please stop calling me that, and using such inappropriate familiarity" Harry said with forced calm, "I am very uncomfortable with it. Please stop. I am not your fuck toy. I'm not your boy or anyones. I will not fuck you." Harry said, letting his revulsion bleed into his tone. He was very aware of Snape's cold shrewd eyes on him, and McGonagall's shocked ones.

"Harry now! Really! I'm your Magical Guardian. I have the right to be fami-"

"my what?" Harry asked butting in. Bringing up the point again. He conjured up the confusion he had felt earlier in the year when he'd first found out, "you never addressed that properly when you first mentioned it, sir. As far as I am aware. I only have a muggle guardian."

"I'm your Magical Guardian Harry. We are familiar and more than a mere student and teacher, which makes my use of your first name, entirely appropriate, my boy."

"I respectfully disagree, sir," he bit out, "I'm very uncomfortable with it. I didn't even know you existed until my first year. I had never heard of a Magical Guardian before you mentioned it at the first task and then avoided my question. I have a guardian, as you said back in first year. My muggle aunt is my only guardian. That's why I have to stay at her house."

"Now Harry. It is your home. She loves you dearly." Dumbledore sweet-talked.

Harry snorted, "No. She doesn't. But that's not the point. And I must insist, sir. I do not know you. Please do not use my first name or that bastardised version of it, and I am. Not. Your. Boy."

"Now Harry you're being ridiculous..." Dumbledore started again.

"Unfortunately Potter has a point," Professor Snape cut in, to Harry's utter shock, and releif. Professor Snape had an expression of great distaste and loathing, but something felt odd, Harry thought.

"Now Severus," Dumbledore said, disappointment colouring his tone and there was something in the twinkle in his eyes that Harry didn't like. Interesting. What was going on there? Professor Snape clearly saw it too, as he closed his mouth and said nothing more.

"This argument is clearly going nowhere," Professor McGonagall snapped, "can we get to the point? I have a lot still to do before the break properly starts."

Dumbledore looked at her inquiringly.

"Potter won't sign-up to stay over the break." She said shortly, "Albus. He needs to open the ball with the other champions if we do not want Hogwarts looking like a fool."

Professor Snape looked at Harry sharply. His black eyes then narrowed far too intelligently, and Harry had to force himself not to shrink back under its weight.

Harry frowned slightly. Was Professor Snape looking at his robes? Why? Come to think of it he'd thought Professor Flitwick had too, he realised suddenly. Had Harry gotten ink on them? Harry subtly glanced down at himself but couldn't see anything out of place. He looked up in time to see Professor Snape glancing at McGonagall, looking incredulous. Harry wondered what that was about!

Harry sighed, he'd never understand adults!

Instead, he said, "I have family matters to attend to, and my Aunt has given me permission to leave Hogwarts for the break. Nothing is saying I must stay for the break. I am not a proper champion, and do not really have a place in it."

"The Ball!" Minerva cut in furiously.

"If the boy wants no part in something he has no place in, let him go," Professor Snape sneered over the top of her protesting.

"I checked the charter, sir." Harry said, "there is no rule saying students must stay for the break. I am not a true champion. I never was. It was never intended for there to be four champions anyway, so why on earth would you need the fake to open the ball?" Harry asked, derisively.

"Like most of the school body says, support Cedric Diggory, the real Hogwarts champion, ma'am. That's the popular opinion you know," he went on casually. Though he thought he may have felt a hint of amusement from Professor Snape's corner but could find no trace of it on his face.

"It would be much better to continue the ball as originally planned, would it not? With the three proper champions. You don't need me screwing it up. I'm a terrible dancer."

"Stop this at once, Harry my boy. This isn't like you," Dumbledore said kindly, but his words made Harry freeze. There was something hard about the feel of his magic now, something biting.

Fear burnt at Harry's insides. He knew. Or Dumbledore would, if Harry didn't back down and get the hell out of Dodge.

"You will be at the ball Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said firmly, and Harry could feel his magic pulsing around him, pulling at him. It was soft and deceptively gentle, but it was cloying and smothering too. And underneath all of it...

It felt like it had sharp teeth that would eat Harry alive, leaving nothing but a shrivelled mindless shell behind and Dumbledore would smile while he did it.

Harry shoved everything back, he needed to get out. There was no point arguing. He knew that tone. That tone meant, 'my word is final,' and 'you will do as I say or else.'

So he did as he always had done back at the Dursley's. He agreed. He apologised. He plicated. He conjured the shame he felt whenever his aunt yelled at him for existing. In his best and most cowed voice, he said, "if you think it best, sir." careful not to agree to anything but making it sound like he was listening.

"Good boy," Dumbledore said, his magic settling with that falsely reassuring smile of his. It made Harry's insides squirm. However, Harry just shoved it all back and continued to just nod and plicate, agreeing that he'd been wrong, as Dumbledore repeated himself on how important it was for Harry to basically do as he was told. Harry emptily, woodenly, apologised over and over, until he was dismissed; just as he had done many times before.

As soon as he was free, Harry went mindlessly back down to the deeper dungeons. He took a very long hot shower deep in the dungeons under as strong a wards as he could manage. Before retreating to his cupboard, too numb to even take out his jar of bluebell flames. He was unfortunately used to have this personal rights violated. That didn't lessen the shock or the horror however, and he stared at the wall for hours unseeing. He hadn't expected it to happen this often at Hogwarts however, when he'd first looked forward to going.

Eventually he slipped into a fitful sleep full of old familiar nightmares. When he woke the following morning, he felt as if he'd had not slept at all, like so many times before.

Severus Snape followed the boy out of the office sometime later. The boy was long gone, and Severus knew that if it was Potter who had been taking refuge in the lower dungeon, that he'd never catch him. The boy seemed to know the dungeons as well, if not better, than he did!

He sighed and he un-warded his office door, and slipped down into his quarters. He and Filius had wondered just what was going on with the boy. They'd assumed it was a combination of learning about his mother, the tournament, the loss of Weasley and the hash that Severus had made of the boy's apology.

He cursed himself now for not recognising the signs. The boy had been un-housed. And the whole of Gryffindor, the loudest and most rambunctious house had kept it quiet. Not only that, but his Head of House was totally oblivious! The whole thing was appalling! And of course the boy had not told anyone.

Snape had thought he was just withdrawing, being antisocial. But to be un-housed... How had no-one noticed!? The boy wasn't just studying with his Slytherins, he was taking refuge in their dungeons too. He wondered if his snakes knew the boy was living in the dungeons too and had helped keep it from him?

No. They did not know. They never succeeded in keeping anything from him for long. But where was the boy sleeping?

0o0o0o0o

OTHER NOTE

Part of the game keeper duties (or maybe something Hagrid started) was collecting potions ingredients when he sees them. Harry gets good at it and helps.

Snape appreciates the ingredients, but harry is a scared, paranoid and abused kid. He fears the worst in everyone. Snape triggers this especially

.

.

.

TRIGGER WARNINGS!

Mentions of Pedophilia

Mentions of life on the Streets


	39. Chapter 39 Escaping Hogwarts

The following morning, his things all shrunk and in his warded bag, Harry dressed in his charmed cloak, his invisibility cloak and a weak disillusionment charm. It was alarmingly easy to slip out of the castle, now. It always was. Hermione met him at the base of the stairs, and they huddled under the clock and snuck into the forest for a run. After stashing his bag and extra layers under the willow, they headed through the forest for their last morning run before the holidays.

"You okay Hermione?" Harry asked after a while, looking at his friend closely. She'd been really quiet that morning, and there was something that just seemed... off about her.

"Of course," she said, with a smile. But Harry just raised an eyebrow at her. She sounded exhausted and a bit too cheerful for this early in the morning, she was normally not a morning person.

"I'm fine," she said falsely.

"Are you sure? You've been a bit off this week, I thought it was just the Gryffindor situation, but I'm not so sure. Do you need anything?" He asked again.

She was silent for a long time before saying, "I'm okay."

And he left it at that, even if it sounded a little brittle. She'd tell him when she was ready. It was only when they were washing up in the change rooms later that Hermione finally said something.

"I got punched again, by one of the seventh year girls last night." She said as she towel-dried her hair

"What? What happened?" Harry asked appalled.

"They were talking about the un-housing again, and I ripped them a new one about how unfair it was, and well... I guess I hit a nerve because she punched me. She caught me by surprise I didn't have a chance to block her." Hermione said, waving her wand over her face.

The magic rippled, and the glamour fell. A glamour, that's what had been wrong, he thought. The glamour had been hiding a spectacular black eye.

"Please just stop Hermione! This is hurting you." Harry said, "it's not worth it."

I'm not worth it, went unsaid.

"No," she said shortly.

"Brave and courageous. Gryffindor all the way," he said fondly.

Hermione flicked her wand at her hair again, and it dried. A few more flicks of her wand as well as some potion and it was in neat curls tied back in a sensible ponytail.

"Yes," she agreed, "but that's not all I am. Just like it's not all you are. It's them that are letting down the house. Not us, and it infuriates me, that I can't make them see that. I'm done."

"Oh, good," Harry said relieved.

"No, I'm done with them. I'm going to leave Gryffindor. I'm done."

"Hermione you don't have to do that for me-"

"I'm not asking your permission Harry Potter; I'm telling you politely! You're not going through this alone. We're in this together. I've had enough."

"Okay okay," he said, slowly digesting it, guilt crawling in his stomach.

"Anyway, I'm not doing it just for you," she said with a grin, "I'm doing it for me too."

"Thanks, Hermione," he said eventually, pulling her into a gentle hug, "come on, I have some cream in my bag you can use on your eye."

"Oh good! I was worried, you'd really object," she said with obvious in relief, "because I've already done it," she blurted out.

Harry just laughed and hugged her again, "thanks, Hermione. Anyway, what happened? Why didn't you go to Madam Pomfrey or McGonagall?"

"Madame Pomfrey would ask questions and tell McGonagall," Hermione started. Harry narrowed his eyes slightly when he noted that she did not use the professor's title.

"She hasn't even noticed you, and it's been weeks! Did you know your robes have changed? They have the Hogwarts crest on them now; no house affiliation."

"Really?" Harry said, surprised, looking down. Sure enough, his Gryffindor crest had gone. That must be what Professor's Snape and Flitwick had been looking at. Dread pooled in his gut.

"Yep, I noticed it yesterday," Hermione said.

"If she hasn't noticed you, why would she notice me?" She continued, distracting him before he could panic further, "she hasn't done anything about it. And there's no way that anyone could not notice the tension in Gryffindor lately. Not with all the pranks Fred and George have been setting on everyone in retribution. Didn't you notice everyone was green last Tuesday?"

"Huh? I'd wondered about that." He said, pulling out a pot of salve and handing it over to her.

She snorted as she dabbed some of the thick paste over her eye, "well it came to a head last night. They were saying some awful things about you after dinner, and I lost it. I punched one of the seventh year girls who said something particularly nasty about you and your mum. It escalated to an ultimatum. If I had such a problem, I could leave. They voted and cast me out." She said matter of factly, "Fred, George and Neville came too."

"What? But? What...?" Harry stuttered.

"Fred and George said they already disappoint their mum, a bit more won't make much difference. Neville agreed actually with them, said, being declared not Gryffindor enough wouldn't surprise his Gran. He hexed McLaggan good though! He used the one George taught us last week. The Romanian one you need a proper counter for." She said with a wicked grin.

"Wow, good on you!" He said, "where are you guys staying? Are you guys, okay?"

"We went to the Room of Requirement, it gave us hammocks." She said, simply handing back the pot of salve.

"You keep it," Harry said, "I've got more. It works best if you put it on three times a day, till it's gone. It will heal it in two days I've found, for the nasty ones, a few hours for little ones. Are the others okay?"

"Thanks," she said pocketing the salve, "Yes. We got our things out no problem, they hadn't destroyed them like they did yours. Anyway," She smiled, "it's nice and peaceful there, and, all the books!"

"You sure you're okay?" He asked

"Yes, we're fine. Now come on, I know you have some time before your lesson with Bill. The train doesn't leave till 11, and they agreed to have an early breakfast with you in the kitchens."

"Are you sure you're right there? We don't know who else can get into the Room of Requirement. That's why I went to the lower dungeons. I hijacked a room and warded it." He said as they turned down the corridor to the kitchens and stopped outside the portrait of a bowl of fruit.

"We'll keep that in mind, but yes, we're fine," Hermione said as she tickled the pear and the portrait giggled and swung open.

The sea of elves parted for them, and they joined Fred, George and Neville at their usual little table by the fire in the back of the room.

"You lot okay?" Harry asked worriedly when they'd sat down. They didn't look worse for wear.

"Yeah," said Neville. He seemed to be sitting up a little straighter and seemed a bit more confident, "we got sick of hearing them bad mouth you, and we got sick of putting up with a house full of ass-holes."

"Go, Neville!" Harry said a bit shocked, by the change in the quiet boy.

"You should have seen him and Hermione, mate," they ripped the older Gryffindors a new one," Fred said with a grin.

"Hermione got Mclaggan in the nose, and then when he punched her back, Neville hexed him good!" said George.

"And they kicked us out!" Neville said proudly.

"You didn't have to-" Harry started again only to be cut off.

"Yes, we did," Neville said, "it wasn't right, and we're Gryffindors, brave and chivalrous. We won't stand by someone being wronged."

The others nodded and dug into the breakfast Winky brought them.

"I've been researching it," Hermione said, "I can't find much, but it seemed to be an old thing that doesn't actually have any negative consequences as far as I can tell. I really want to check the charter, but I can't find a copy anywhere." She said with a huff.

Harry fossicked around in his bag for a bit, then handed her his copy, "here. Flitwick gave me this one. You can borrow it, if you like. I haven't had a chance to check it yet."

"Oh, thanks, Harry!" Hermione said, going to open it only to be interrupted by three owls.

Two landed in front of Neville and Hermione. Errol, however, crashed into George, holding a red-letter.

Fred and George just looked resigned and took the red letter from a half-dead looking Errol while Fred coaxed some bacon into the tired old owl.

"We figured it would be better just to tell them last night and get it over with," Neville said gingerly taking his own white letter from the regal-looking owl his Gran had sent.

No sooner had Neville finished speaking than the Howler burst open filling the kitchen with Molly Weasleys shrieking.

It was not nice.

The yelling went on and on for a full 10 minutes ranging from being sick of their misbehaving and throwing their education away, to the twins shaming the family, the first to be un-housed in a century and, the first not to be in Gryffindor! She went on about how much of a disappointment they were and that she didn't want to hear another thing about them for the rest of the year or they would be sorry!

The twins seemed used to her yelling and looked like they were just going to brush it off as if it didn't matter. But Harry could see the slight slump in their shoulders, the slight tension in George's hands as he cut up more tiny bits of bacon for Errol and, the slight disappointment in Fred's eyes as he fed it to the owl.

Harry thought it was a bit unfair of her. It was a bit of a shock actually. Molly had always seemed like such a perfect mum. It seemed harsh for her to be giving the twins such a dressing down. It didn't seem fair. But then, she had been unusually angry at their prank sweets for the Quidditch World Cup...

"Are you okay?" Asked Hermione.

George sighed, and Fred said, "she thinks we're wasting our education by wanting to open a joke shop. She wants us to be more serious and studious and go into the Ministry. She wants us to be another Percy really. She doesn't like us much. Just the idea of who we should be."

"Don't get us wrong. She loves us a lot, we're her kids. She just wants different things from what we want. And she thinks we're not good enough as we are. We should aim to be what she wants for us, you see. We're just a bit of a disappointment to her." Fred continued when it was clear that George wasn't going to say anything.

"Bill explained it to us once," he went on, "she loves us dearly. She prides herself in being a good mum, and she wants what's best for us. But she has very strict ideas of what that is. She gets very upset when we don't conform to those things."

"Why do you think Bill and Charlie live overseas and don't come home too often," George said rhetorically. "They don't like being on the receiving end of hearing how much their choices aren't good enough and they should come home and get a proper job, a proper hair cut or do something useful and safe with their life."

"She means well," said Fred, as if it were something he'd been told endlessly.

"She just goes about wanting what's best for her kids in all the wrong ways," George added in the same way.

"She shouldn't have sent you a howler for that. You guys did nothing wrong by standing up for a friend." Hermione said, hotly.

"Yeah, but she doesn't see it that way. It's how she shows that she cares," said, George.

"Anyhow, it doesn't matter, this is just another fuck up, in a long line," Fred said flippantly "anyway, what did your Gran say, Neville? Was she disappointed too?"

"No! Actually," Neville said, sounding as stunned as he looked. "I thought she'd be mad at me for being a disappointment again! But she was really pleased. 'said I'd done my family proud and said I'm starting to live up to my dad at long last.

She said she was proud of me! She's never said that before."

"Well done Neville," the twins said. "Good for you."

Neville beamed and tucked the letter carefully into his pocket, "what about you, Hermione? Did you hear back from your parents about Christmas?"

Hermione sighed, "yes."

"Wait, what happened?" Harry asked, taking another bite of his toast.

"They want me home for Christmas." Hermione sighed, "I wrote to tell them about the Yule Ball and how I wouldn't be home for Christmas. They didn't care last year or the year before! I don't see why they'd care now." She said, slightly bitterly.

And Harry realised she very rarely talked about her parents.

"What happened?" he asked gently

"They feel I'm being too distant," she said bitterly. "They want me home for Christmas so we can get together as a family, and get to know one another again."

"Is that a bad thing?" Harry asked tentatively

"Yes," Hermione said bluntly, "they never cared much before. Why start now?"

She signed again and said, "I was a bit of a surprise. They were married and had their own shiny dental business. While they didn't really have time for a child, it was the done thing. So they hired nannies to look after me and had my life planned for me. I know they love me, but I think its more the idea. They don't really know me. And then McGonagall came, and it was so exciting! But then they realised it would mean I wouldn't go on to run their practice when they retired. And they're not so keen on the magical world now. They just don't understand." She said with a huff.

"We were never close. I was always too curious, always pestering them with questions, too bookish, not interested enough in the things they thought I should to be. They wanted me to take piano and ballet classes, but all I wanted to do was read." She said, slightly deprecatingly.

"I wanted to be a teacher or a lawyer when I was a kid, but they insisted that I'd be a dentist. I was relieved to get my letter. It meant I'd have some choice. But we've been growing further apart. It seems they've decided to do something about it."

She sighed again, "I hate it. I'm not who they want me to be. I don't fit into that world. I worry they're trying to take me away from my world."

He'd had no idea things at home had been so stressful for her. They always seemed so normal, even if she never said much about them.

"I managed to persuade them to let me come back for the ball, then go home again. Hopefully, this means they'll actually take some time off to spend with me this year, not just keep working. And the ball here means I won't have to go to their huge charity gala. Normally they make me go so they can show me off. It's not much fun." she said bitterly.

"I guess this is the best of both worlds then," Neville said, "you get to keep them happy, and get to come back for the ball."

She nodded, "yes, it was a compromise. I'm glad they agreed. If I'd pushed it, I was worried they may try to withdraw me."

"They can't," Neville said. "Non-magical parents can't withdraw a magical child from school before the NEWTs. It's not legal. Not without your magical guardian's permission. It wouldn't be safe for you. You probably have enough magical control, but you need to use it regularly while your magical core is developing." Neville said.

Hermione slumped with relief, "oh, good!"

"Cheer up, Hermione," Fred said, "it won't be so bad. We'll all write to you over the break."

"Thanks," she said, smiling again, "I should probably go and tell McGonagall what my parents have decided."

"Don't you have a lesson with Bill now, Harry?" George asked.

"Oh!" Harry said, jumping up, "I do!"

"Say hi for us!" Fred said.

"Will do," Harry said as he followed Hermione from the Kitchens.

"I'll meet you on the train at 11 o'clock." She said before leaving the kitchens to find McGonagall.

Harry was a bit late to meet Bill, who was already waiting for him. They'd agreed to do a short early lesson today. Bill had been working on an important dig in Egypt and was about to close it up. It had been in the works for ages, so it was important he was there for it over the next week. It sounded exciting, but it did mean he wouldn't see Harry for a few days and wouldn't be able to take him to Knockturn or Gringotts for the start of the holidays. So they'd agreed to do an early lesson before he left.

"Sorry I'm late, I got caught up, Hermione-" Harry started as he rushed in, but Bill just caught him by the shoulders, "it's okay Harry, breathe. I don't mind."

"Oh," Harry said deflating as his panic, built from years of being yelled by his relatives for the slightest infraction, melted out of him.

"Thanks," he said, giving Bill a hug, "hi."

Bill hugged him back fondly and said, "so Occlumency first?"

"Yes please."

They spent some more time on Occlumency. Harry was getting better at it, though it was difficult and he had not managed yet to get as far as finding the centre of his mind.

Bill then started taking Harry though what his role as an Heir would be, what to expect when he took up his heir rings and how that process worked. It was interesting, but a little daunting too. Harry had the bows and formalities down pat by now. The Slytherins had been teaching him well, and he could act the part of an heir. But they hadn't been able to teach him to be an heir or a lord, that was their older siblings.

So Bill started taking him through the process he'd go through at the bank of doing the induction ritual into his families that would then allow him to step up as heir. They also ended up with a little bit of time before they both had to go. So Bill explained Nocturne Alley a little bit more to Harry.

"Like Diagon Alley, Nocturne Alley is a whole district. It can be a genuinely dangerous place, so you have to understand some of the more unspoken rules and etiquette for Nocturne alley." He'd explained.

"But first, while the outsiders call it Knockturn Alley, it was originally named Nocturne. Nocturne is a piece of dark music."

"A Nocturne is inspired by, or evocative of, the night," Harry chipped in. As a child, he had not been above reading a dictionary or an encyclopaedia to stave off boredom when locked up for long hours.

"Just so," Bill explained. "The alley was named by its denizens. It's a nocturnal place full of Darke culture. But the ministry came along in one of its bids to wipe out the Darke and changed the name in an effort to bring it up to the Lyght standards and wipe out the seedier side of the Wizarding world as well. All they really managed was pushing the Darke underground and making Nocturne stubbornly shadier and seedier, with those shunned and on the sides taking shelter there. Nocturne housed the seedier, less legal underbelly of the Wizarding world as well as the Darke culture."

"Now, Nocturne is both, just as dangerous and not as dangerous as its reputation suggests." Bill explained, and Harry could hear the faint worry in his voice, "Kockturne is general refuting the first 100m or so of the alley leading from Diagon. It's open during the day and is often dirtier, shadier, and the ministry thinks they control it. That leads into Nocturne Proper, which is where Gringott's back door is located. That place is completely nocturnal, is outside Ministry control, though they'll never admit it, and is much freer than Knockturn. It is made up of quite a few other alleys all spiralling together to make up Nocturne Proper."

"It's not too dangerous or unsafe if you stick to the rules," Bill went on, "Nocturne has an unspoken etiquette. The rules are a bit different. First of all, show no weakness. Especially as an outsider, it will be exploited, and outsiders are often scared off. They're tested. So act like you belong and that you know what you're doing, even if you don't.

Secondly, don't poke your nose in other peoples business and expect it not to be bitten off. People don't take kindly to others poking their nose where it doesn't belong, especially outsiders. Keep your nose clean, stay out of other peoples business. The rules are all tougher and harsher in Nocturne because it's a tougher, harsher place. That's not to say it's a bad place or an unkind place, it looks after its own. Just different. And it can be dangerous if you're not careful. Everyone there has been prosecuted or shunned in some way. It means they can be both prickly and at times understanding if you're one of their own. Which you're not. So don't forget it." Bill went on.

"Another thing, hardly anyone uses their real names, so don't ask someone if it's their real name. It's rude. Just as no-one else will ask if whatever name you give them is your real name. Be cautious. People will use things against you if they can. Having said that, though, Nocturne looks after its own." Bill repeated.

"And Respect. Always respect others Harry. And don't call the aurors. Nocturne deals with things in house. There are many runaways, and people with things to hide; don't pry, and don't drawn in outside trouble. Darke culture is more prominent, don't ask about it. It causes trouble for you if people think you're an outsider and people are distrustful of outsiders. That all make sense?" He asked.

Harry thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

"Good, and Harry?" Bill asked, looking concerned. "I know you can look after yourself, but be careful, please. When in doubt run, and if you can't do that, Hex first and ask questions later, that's the Nocturne way. Nocturne can be dangerous. It has, to an extent, earned it's reputation okay?"

Harry nodded.

"Sweet, keep your wand on you at all times, don't be afraid to use it, and I know you can use a knife, keep that on you too, use it if you need to."

When Harry patted his boot, where his knife (or one of them,) was hidden now, Bill nodded and changed the subject, "now let's put some wards and spells and things into your clothes. I meant to show you earlier but didn't get a chance. It will help ward off hexes." Bill said.

They worked on the protection bands after that and almost perfected the rune set to recycle the magical energy. Bill enjoyed it a lot.

It blew up in their face a fair but and Harry apologised profusely for wasting Bill's time. It hadn't worked yet, but Bill just grinned and said, "Nah this is great. I'm learning loads. You think and use magic in really different, innovative ways. This is brilliant. Better than my versions which are spells."

"Really? Show me," Harry asked eagerly, sucking up Bill's shared knowledge like a sponge.

In the end, he combined the two, and they got the recycle thing going. First they tested it out on the shield bands with minor stinging hexes. Then, trip jinxes, and managed to get it to get it to hold up against a stunner before it buckled and blew up. Harry was so excited that it worked he actually jumped up and hugged Bill, laughing with excitement.

Harry was almost late for the train and Bill had to apparate him straight to the Hogsmeade platform, from the grounds of the Shack. Bill had offered to apparate Harry straight to Gringotts, but Harry said he'd use the cloak and take the train. They expected him to stay, so it shouldn't be a problem. Besides, he'd promised his first years to help them with their holiday work. But really, he'd never been able to take the train over the school break, and Harry really wanted to see if it was any different than at the start and end of the year.

"Again, I'm sorry I can't stay today and help you get settled in Nocturne. But, the Unhinged Door is a semi-decent place to stay if you're on a tight budget. So is the Murder Mile Motel, though that is a bit more expensive." Bill said, giving Harry a hug.

"I know, and The Hung Drawn 'n' Quarters is dirt cheap if I'm desperate, but I'll get more dirt than I bargained for because Dung owns it." Harry parroted with a smile, "don't worry, I'll be fine."

It was too odd to have anyone worrying about him to be really irritated by it. Not when it was coming from Bill.

Bill ruffled Harry's hair and gave him another hug, reluctant to leave. Something about Harry made all Bill's protective instincts stand on end. He was a strong kid, though, "I'll see you at Gringotts in a few days. I'll be there for the Ritual," before he gave Harry another hug and apparating away.

The train ride was mostly the same as it always was. Hermione was sitting in their usual compartment with the Hogwarts charter on her lap and looked up when the door opened, but no one came in. She just nodded at Harry, who she'd correctly guessed was under his cloak, and kept reading.

Harry didn't relax until the train had left the Hogsmeade Station and had well and truly pulled away from the school. It was only then that he took off his invisibility cloak and lowered his hood.

"Hey," he said, "how'd it go with the professor?" He asked her.

She shrugged, "she helped me work it all out, so we could keep both worlds happy. We agreed I'd come back the day before the ball, and we agreed I'd go home on Christmas Morning."

"Which means you'll still get to go to the ball. But it will keep your parents happy too." Harry said

She nodded, "yes,"

"Well, do you want to meet my study group?" Harry asked, "I didn't think you'd be on the train so I promised them I'd help them with their holiday homework, so they'd have less to worry about over the break."

"Oh?" Hermione said, "your Slytherin first years?"

"Yes."

All the Slytherin first years were in one larger compartment that was normally taken up by some of the older years. Harry introduced Hermione with the proper formalities. To the first year's surprise, she replied and greeted them all in with the proper etiquette that had them all relaxing a little. Not enough for her to notice, but enough for Harry to. He'd spent quite a lot of time around them this term and was starting to see through their reserved natures, and Slytherin masks. After all, it takes one to know one.

The first years were quiet and reserved around Hermione, who they didn't really know. She also wasn't a Slytherin, and as the least popular house, the Slytherins were often weird around the other houses.

Harry didn't count, as Astoria had told him, "you speak our founders tongue and could have been a Slytherin, that makes you an honorary snake!"

But soon they warmed up once she'd helped explain a particularly complicated bit of transfiguration theory to Alice. They were joined by some second-year Slytherins and a few third years, once word got around that Harry was tutoring on the train. They got most of their homework done, and they have a fun ride, practising Defence Against the Dark Arts.

When the train pulled into Kings Cross, Harry had his things in his warded bag. He had managed to put runes on it allowing him to shrink it with a tap of his wand. The magic was too passive to be detected by the underage magic rule, which allowed him to use it out of school and away from wizarding areas.

Harry said goodbye to Hermione on the magical side of the platform before going to find his aunt. She was waiting on the other side with a familiar fierce scowl of pure loathing. Harry just put his wand and tiny bag into his pocket and said nothing. He took a deep breath and pushed all emotion deep down into the little box in his gut until he felt nothing at all and walked up towards her.

The drive back to no.4 was filled with a stoney silence. She set him to work immediately, cleaning the bedrooms and the bathrooms, before sending him out to do the gardens and the weeding in the cold dark night air while they had dinner.

She set him an intimidatingly long list of chores to do in payment for her cooperation and the threat of being truly sorry if he skimped on them, or if he came back at all the following summer.

He was thoroughly cowed by his aunt's threats. Personally, he had no intention of ever seeing them again if he could possibly avoid it. And a small part of him (that had no self-preservation) did not care if he pissed them off. They were lucky he was doing anything for them at all. But knowing his luck, he didn't want to risk pissing them off too much, just in case, he was forced to go back in the Summer.

He worked all evening in the house, scrubbing it within an inch of its life, trying to work around his relatives without drawing his uncles ire. There was a vein throbbing in his uncle's temple, and Harry was relieved when they went to bed. He only had a few rooms left to scrub before he could move on to all his outside chores and the cooking preparation.

He was an old hand at doing a complete go over of the house by now. His aunt made him do it once a month for as long as he could remember. It didn't take as long as it used to, to finish the cleaning. It was not as bad as it normally was at the end of the year. Maybe he could sneak a nap before the gardening. She hadn't given him cooking or Christmas decorating chores this time!

He headed upstairs, avoiding the creaking step... but frowned at the sight of the door to Dudley's second bedroom.

It had been replaced. There were no traces of the cat flap or the many locks. He opened the door. They'd turned it into a home office! The window with its broken bars had been replaced. The broken junk and falling apart furniture had been replaced. Now it was clean and shiny looking. It smelled of new paint and new carpet. It had a shiny white desk in the corner along with a shiny new computer, a brand new wheelie chair, a bookcase and a comfy looking couch.

They'd removed all traces of him. It shouldn't hurt. He'd known for longer than he'd know his own name that they hated his guts. He'd known they wanted nothing to do with him. But this was fast, even for them.

It shouldn't hurt. But it did.

He sighed again, then spotted a note on the door. Typical. More work to do. Never a thank you or a moments rest. Honestly, why did he put up with this? He could just go. But if Dumbledore forced him back somehow, he shivered, he knew better than to disobey.

He read the note, written in his aunts angry angular writing.

"Freak, don't think you can get away with slacking, even if you finish the house and garden, you still have the Christmas cooking to do! I expect it to be all out this year, and don't forget to decorate properly!"

Harry let out another gusty, but always silent, sigh and mechanically started the cooking. He knew what they wanted, what they made him make every year. Thank the gods this was the last time.

He baked biscuits and gingerbread houses and fruitcake, and the Christmas puddings for his aunt's lady's lunches. He was, as always, quieter than a mouse, mixing things by hand, cutting things carefully and quietly, knowing better than to risk waking his relatives. He prepared all sorts of Christmassy foods, bitterly resenting the fact that once again he wouldn't get to eat any of it! His aunt knew the exact amounts that would be produced. She'd know if he nicked some. She always did. And he wouldn't put it past her to come down to check on him in the night. She normally locked him up at night, not trusting him in the house unsupervised. He knew he had no choice but to toe the line unless he wanted the hiding of a lifetime.

While the food was baking or boiling in batches, he covered the house in tinsel and fake holly and other Christmas decorations. He plugged lights in and decked the house out like he hadn't had to in years. It did not bring anything pleasant back. He was relieved to get out of the stiflingly clean and Christmassy house to start the garden chores.

He was exhausted by that time and had to fight to stay awake. He had the garden path to scrub, the shed to tidy, windows to scrub and a fence to paint. On top of all the weeding, the pruning and watering. And that was before he could do the outside decorating! It took the rest of the night to get it all done, between going back inside to top up the pots of boiling water, that the puddings were cooking in.

When the garden was done, and he'd washed up, he had enough time to prepare the full English breakfast for his uncle and cousin and a fruit salad for his aunt. Just in time, too. He knew what he'd get from his uncle if he was still there when he got downstairs, and it wouldn't be a Christmas present!

"You're cutting it fine!" His aunt snapped in greeting after she'd inspected his work. He allowed himself to sag slightly in relief when she didn't tell him to re-do everything. It must have been at least adequate, then.

"Well!" She snapped, "get out of here! And don't expect anything else from us! And don't you dare ever come back!"

Harry left, pulling up the hood of his coat up to hide his face. He pulled out the last half sandwich Dobby had packed. Everything ached.

He'd nicked some loose change when he was doing all the laundry, and it was just enough to get a bus ticket. He didn't have enough Wizarding money for the Knight Bus and didn't want any wizards knowing where he'd gone.

He had been worried that someone would recognise him, so he had pulled out a black hooded frock coat from his mum's wardrobe and used it to cover his face. It seemed to have similar charms to his cloak, to keep him warm and his face hidden. And it was muggle enough, at a glance. It looked Victorian and not wizarding. He kept the hood up, no-one even looked twice at him. It was glorious.

Despite his exhaustion, he was too alert to fall asleep on the bus. But he did doze lightly, keeping one ear pricked, one hand on his knife (he couldn't risk using his wand here) and the other on his bag strap. He knew better than to risk letting his guard down completely. He didn't trust anyone not to try something.

When the bus final dropped Harry in London, he wearily trudged through the back alleyways. After putting his wizarding cloak around his shoulders too, now that he was away from muggles. He put it's hood up as well for extra protection.

Harry slipped easily into Nocturne without being seen. He couldn't risk being recognised. Harry Potter could not be in 'Knockturn Alley!' And the fewer people that knew his whereabouts, the safer he'd be.

But no-one asked. Bill had been right. The people of Nocturne didn't nose into other peoples business. Harry was relieved to be able to hold his wand in his hand openly again as he wandered down the alley. He was relieved to be surrounded by magic again, and Nocturne's Darke and wild magic was comforting. Even with its subtle threatening untamed edge. It felt homey. Almost like Harry belonged.

The magic was heavier the further in he went, away from the outer alley that joined onto Diagon Alley. The entrance to Nocturne, off Diagon, was called Knockturn. It was quieter, and had a more neglected feel. It's magic had a slightly more sinister feel and Harry wondered if it was deliberately so, to warn away outsiders.

Nocturne Alley as a whole, had a Darker feel to it as if the weak winter sunlight didn't quite penetrate its magical haze. The alley here was less dirty and dilapidated compared to the small outer Knockturn. It seemed less neglected and more deliberately kept dark, creepy and gothic. The spider webs in some windows seemed to have been cultivated as if it was just part of the style of the place. He liked it.

The further into the alley he went, the quieter it got, as true Nocturne was nocturnal. The shops and vendors were closing up for the day now the sun was rising. While Diagon would just be waking up, Nocturne seemed to be winding down. It had a slightly slower sleepier air to it now than the last time he was here.


	40. Chapter 40 The Purging Ritual

Sorry its late, I'm burnt out at the mo, and had work.

Well sh*t. I posted the wrong chapter, sorry about that Ladys and Gents, lets try this one.

Also heads up, this is a intense one. It took me hours and hours to write and tweak the bones of the ritual itself without Harry in it before I even started writing Harry actually experiencing the ritual, then another 2 weeks to do the meat of the chapter and get the whole thing just right so I hope you like it!

Side note: the ritual in this chapter is intense, as it should be.

Loads of end notes:

0o0o0o

Harry scouted out the inns that Bill recommended first. He wanted to go to Gringotts straight away but needed to pick a place to sleep first. He was exhausted from being up all night, as well as from the emotional toll of being with his 'relatives.'

It was easy enough to find the inns, once he worked out that most were in the same general area. Interestingly enough it wasn't just the inns that had merely humorous or just lame creepy and morbid names. 'Cobb & Webb's Coffin House,' 'Dystyl Phaelanges; and 'Tombed to Fail' were just a few of the ones he looked at as he searched. The most popular inn seemed to be the White Wyvern. It was also full at this time of year, and the most expensive. But the ones Bill had mentioned all had room, but were outside his meagre budget.

To his annoyance, even the seedier inns were not cheap enough for him to afford. He was also just too tired to feel brave enough to haggle for a price or bargain a trade labour in exchange for food and board. The streets then, he sighed. He'd done it before. He could do it again. At least he had magic and a trunk here. He'd have to scout out the alley first properly, though.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he could feel someone watching him. He didn't stop walking but focused his senses outwards, searching. A hand brushed against his bag flap pressed, against his body. The bag's wards pinged in the back of his mind, and instincts from his time on the streets before Hogwarts flared back to life in an instant. His hand shot out and latched onto a bony wrist.

He recognised the pickpocket. Not because he'd ever seen the kid before, but because 'it takes one to know one.' This one had been stupid enough to get caught. Harry was probably a bit rusty from not having used the skills since he'd got his letter.

Maybe it was time to polish those skills again.

He looked a the pickpocket. Thin, 13, taller than him, glaring at him defiantly, trying to jerk away. Harry just tightened his grip and twisted just enough to be uncomfortable, to get the kids attention to show him that Harry meant business.

He could feel himself being watched and wondered if it was the Alley guards Bill had mentioned that protected the locals from auroras and outsiders.

"Don't." Harry said to the kid, softly, but harshly, "just don't."

He knew not to present a weak front on the streets. It was easy to slip into the old, colder bravado, the old air of menace necessary to survive on the streets of London as a child. It felt like putting on an old familiar jumper, like coming home as he spat at the street rat, "No-one pickpockets, a pickpocket."

The kid scampered as soon as Harry let him go. But Harry had memorised his face, his walk. Harry skulked around the alleyway, watching and scouting, looking for a good place to stash his trunk and set up for the day once he was done at Gringotts.

He watched the people, spotted the guards lurking, and was sure there were more he wasn't seeing. He spotted others sleeping on the streets. He spotted the street rats (the street kids,) wizards that came in every so often from Diagon that screamed of 'dodgy' and 'outsider.'

The shops had turned their lights and their music off, closing windows, shutters and curtains. Nocturne was quieter during the day. Interesting. It didn't all completely go to sleep, some left a mere skeleton crew in the stores that were closer to Diagon, in Knocturn.

Not conducive to sleeping in doorways. And there weren't really bins here, not when rubbish could just be vanished. So no sleeping behind them either. Bugger. He'd have to watch the patterns and routines, to scout out how things worked and where would be safe to sleep. He melted back into the shadows of an alleyway that he'd been watching from only to bump into someone.

Someone who's magic he hadn't felt. Someone who hadn't been there before, who'd snuck up on him. He went for his knife and his wand in one movement turning to face them.

An old woman. At least he thought they were a female. They seemed to be female in shape, but their face was covered by long scraggly hair. He wished there was a polite gender-neutral term on respect. Honestly, Sir or Ma'am was so restrictive!

"Sorry ma'am," he murmured politely, hoping to defuse anything before it started. The lady(?) just cackled at him and went to touch his face with one clawed hand. He jerked out of reach and met her other hand with his knife tip as she went for his face again.

"Oh-ho, lady am I? Polite too. You must be new my pretty. Don't belong here. Must be lost."

He moved back out of her reach and shot a stinging hex at her as she reached for him again. She hadn't felt dangerous, and his instincts were normally good, but he didn't want her touching him.

"Touch me again, and it will be more than a hex," he promised coldly, "you have me mistaken ma'am. I am no-one's plaything. I'm not lost."

He'd be damned if he was going to be seen to be weak by anyone here. He must have had the air of a newbie, so people thought he was an easy target. He straightened his spine. He had to prove he wasn't. He had to prove that he was tough enough not to be messed with.

And here, away from Dumbledore, he was safe enough in the darkness and shadow that he could be himself. He could defend himself without any risk of Dumbledore overpowering and stripping him of his memory and his free will. He didn't have to play 'nice Gryffindor golden-boy,' here.

He smiled coldly, and she stubbornly, stupidly tried to pat his shoulder again. He batted the offending appendage away with his knife. It got her across the palm, and she hissed at him, showing jagged teeth. No, not human at all.

She went for him again, and he shot out a hex and lashed out with his knee this time as she dodged. He caught her across the forearm with his knife again, and she retreated with a hiss and a grin.

But she didn't leave. She just ran a finger over the cut on her hand and the bleeding gash on her arm. He watched with hidden awe as the gashes healed before his eyes. She licked the blood off her fingers and arm with relish and stepped towards him again.

He didn't step back this time but took a step forward until his wand was a foot away from her neck and his knife was at her gut. Not a threat, a promise.

"Leave me alone, or I'll cut off your fingers at best and gut you at worst," he said, his voice cold.

He'd been touched enough, felt up enough, used as a punching bag enough. He didn't know or care what she wanted, but he wasn't interested. And besides, she'd pushed enough, and he'd been lenient enough, had given her more than enough warning. If she pressed him again, he really would cut off her hand or gut her. He'd had enough. He wasn't the Gryffindor golden boy anymore. He never had been.

She cackled and said "oh-ho! It bites," in a pleased sort of gleeful tone before melting back into the shadows.

He narrowed his eyes at the alley she was still lurking in, watching for a long time before he lowered his wand and knife. A watcher then. A test. She wasn't human, that was for sure. Her magic felt too different, not goblin or werewolf... A Hag maybe?

Deciding to avoid the lower streets, Harry climbed some crates in one of the side alley's, up a few drainpipes and managed to clamber up on to the roof of an inn. The rooftops here were close together. He could probably find plenty of places to hide and sleep. It would certainly be easy to travel over them, too. He peered around, moving from slanted rooftop to slanted rooftop.

Yes, behind a chimney was a kid-sized lump under a cloak. So other's slept here too. He sighed. It would do. He scuttled back down to the floor of the alley and headed back to Gringotts.

The goblins didn't even blink as he crossed the threshold of the bank still hooded. He crossed to the nearest free teller but pulled his hood back just enough to show his face. He met the goblin's eyes and said nothing. The goblin blinked, grinned sharply, and after a long, long moment eventually said, "well met Wizard."

Harry smiled just as sharply and said, "well met, Master Teller."

Harry slid his key across the desk, "I wish to see Master Rodgrip if she's free."

The goblin nodded and lead him once again to Rodgrip's office door and knocked. A harsh word in goblin tongue, then a reply, before Harry was ushered into the office. Harry lowered his hood and met Rogrip's eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment before Rodgrip said, "well met Mr Evans-Potter."

"Well met, Master Rodgrip," Harry said, practising the Goblin tongue he'd been teaching himself out of Flitwick's book. Bill had demonstrated some of the sounds for him. But the muscles in this throat were not accustomed yet to the unfamiliar shapes of the goblin's hard vowels or the harsh sounds of the sharp consonants. Harry feared it sounded less like goblin tongue and more like a garbled mess.

Clearly, Rodgrip thought so too if her sneer was anything to go by.

"Kindly refrain from butchering my mother tongue, young wizard," she said, before adding, "well met," also in goblin, as if to show Harry how it was meant to be done.

Harry winced and blushed scarlet, "sorry. I have a book. I'm trying to learn, but it didn't come with that great a pronunciation guide."

She snorted and said, "If you want to learn, use a potion or a tutor, Curse breaker Weasley's Goblin isn't too bad."

Harry nodded, "I'll do that."

She muttered something unsavoury about wizards in general and Harry being odd, before she peered at him closely, somehow not looking directly at him. She narrowed her eyes and made a pinching motion in the air in front of him. Magic crackled lightly around him. It did not really make a sound, as such, but it felt like it. Her magic tugged at him. He winced but allowed it. It wasn't as bad as it was last time.

She peered at him again, "you're healthier than you were. You don't look like half starved, dead roadkill this time."

Harry snorted in amusement, "thanks."

"That house-elf is doing a good job. Though you could still use fattening up," she said with a glare.

Harry snorted again, "I know. I'm working on it, but you can't see every bone in my spine any more, and my ribs and pelvis aren't so pointy."

She hummed unhappily and handed him a knife. Knowing what she wanted, he let her run the tests again before she pulled out a large file and started flipping through it.

"Some of the bindings have continued to degrade. This is good. It will make it easier." Rodgrip said

"I have the potions. They're a bit thicker than they should be, but it's the best I could do."

"Good. Now we have looked into how to structure the ritual. We have agreed we will need to layer several rituals together on top of the purging potions. It will need a cleansing component and a banishing component," the goblin explained.

"But while we can break the magic on you with the purging potions with the rituals we have brainstormed, I do not know if it will work for the Soul Shard. They are tricky to remove ordinarily, and we have not had one created in a living being before. Possess one, sure, but we have never removed one from a person before, goblin or human... I do not know if it will work. And there is the chance it will take your mother's magic with it, leaving you vulnerable to the Soul Shards.

Harry swallowed. If the normally adamant goblin was unsure, it must be complex.

"What are my options?"

"I would suggest taking a potion to heighten your magical perception and a temporary power boosting ritual to see if you can manually unbind things. Then you can take the a purging potion. That may not clear it out, though. In fact, I don't think it will. It will just take some of it.

I think both purging potions will be necessary, but it will still require a lot of hard work on your part to untangle it. I think we will need a Mage Sense Heightening rune circle, on top of a blood banishing ritual. Add that to the purging potions, and that is your best chance. But it may leave the Soul Shard behind. It may also banish your mother's protection, and leave you more susceptible to the Soul Shard."

"What will that mean?"

"We are not certain. We suspect it will probably forge a mental link between you."

"It already does. I have dreams."

"Well, you won't be any worse off then. Occlumency will be equally important in that case, but ultimately, not effective enough. It will shield you, in that it will stop Riddle feeling you. But you will still get some leakage of his emotions and mind, I think, if he does not occlude. We do not know."

Harry's shoulders slumped a moment before he lifted his chin stubbornly. "Your advice would be? How do I best get rid of it?"

"Kill you." She said succinctly, "but first we shall try the purging ritual before we do something so dramatically wasteful. Then we can look at killing you and bringing you back without resorting to necromancy or leaving you a squib."

Harry took a breath to delay the panic building in his gut, waking him up.

"Let's do it then, and get me as free as we can. I'll deal with the Soul Shard afterwards when it becomes a problem."

"Right then. Let's plan it," Rodgrip said, pulling out notes and diagrams and they got to work.

"The dark moon would be the best time for it, but that would not leave any time to start healing you before you go back. The Full moon also would be good but is too far away so we will have to leave the moon out of it and adjust the runes and ritual schematics to compensate." Rodgrip said, "how soon do you want to do it? I suspect you will feel rather awful afterwards. So we should plan it as close to the dark moon as we can.

"If we can't use the moon other than the phase we can use time," Harry suggested, feeling wide awake again. "I'd like to do it as soon as possible. Tuesday is the day for nastier spell work, or maybe Saturday, which is for banishing. But I'd rather not wait that long. How soon can we do it? Can we do it today? Sunday are not as ideal as Saturday, but it is a day for success. And Midnight is the time for new beginnings," Harry said consideredly.

"You have been learning," Rodgrip said surprised, with a hint of approval. "Depending on what we settle on, Midnight tonight could work. Normally you lot expect us to do everything."

Harry snorted, "I've been reading mum's books. She had lots of books on ritual magic, blood magic and darke magic. She was fascinated with it, particularly with the darke. I've been trying to find things that would help."

"Ah good. This will offer us more options. Illegal ones. But helpful ones. Illegal for you lot anyway. What did you find?"

"Well, I read about war water. It's used for heavy protection magic or for harsh hexing or cursing rituals. I was wondering if we could take its sharp potency and it's harshness to help in some way, to force away some of the outer magic." Harry said, pulling out his notes from his bag.

"I also thought maybe it could be used in conjunction with some kind of a blood ritual cleansing. It would really fucking hurt, but if we used it to strip anything not me, from the blood maybe it would help support mum's protection. Maybe we can invoke the ancestors in some way. I don't have a connection with a deity yet, so I cannot call on one to do that kind of cleansing, but I have ancestors. I may not like dad, but mum gave her life to protect me, and I still have her magic protecting me. Maybe I can invoke the magic of her line in some way and invoke my ancestors to help get rid of this crap.

"Blood magic, old blood magic. Unorthodox; but it may work," Rodgrip said, "A Black candle circle for vanishing and a salt ring for purity. A bloody pentagram, like the other one. It will cleanse the body and the soul, inviting aid from the ancestors of your blood and invoking the protection of your mother. That may help keep it and contain the Soul Shard if it does not come out. Yes, this is progress."

Rodgrip paused for a moment thinking on Harry's suggestions and then nodded, "not so stupid for a wizard, are you?" She muttered, before getting out a quill and parchment.

They spent the rest of the day and well into the evening in Gringotts going over the ritual and the healing he would need afterwards. It was complex and daunting, but it was exhausting enough that it kept his mind off the Soul Shard in his head. The strong pepper-up potion they gave him helped him stay awake and focused, too.

"Yes, this will work," Rodgrip said eventually.

"Good," Harry said in agreement, sitting back in his chair with a yawn, "can we do it tonight?"

"We shall, now, go away. Return at half 11."

He nodded and left the bank. Stores were open now and people filled the alley. It was as if people were sliding back out of the woodwork, now the alley was awake again. Green, purple and red lanterns are being lit, lighting patches of the street with an eery light. It didn't light the alley fully, but it did give it a warmer, if still somewhat mysterious air to it.

It reminded him a lot of the dirtier seedier side of London, he'd lived in on occasion as a child. He slunk through the alley avoiding another pickpocket, deftly. It felt familiar. He liked it. And there were people everywhere and dirty children, some in rags running around, but it felt comfortable, familiar and predictable. He slipped into the crowd, his hood over his head, heading down the alley, to find his chosen rooftop.

He sat huddled in his cloaks on the roof of the Hung Drawn' n' Quarters Inn overlooking the dark heart of Nocturne. He didn't sleep, didn't feel safe enough yet. Not when he didn't yet know the patterns of this place. He was also still awake on the goblins strong pepper-up potion.

So he watched. He watched the street rats running around, stealing and pickpocketing. He watched the children playing and hitting each other and generally getting underfoot. He spotted and noticed the locals watching for, testing and scaring away outsiders. He watched the locals, the shoppers and the people who worked in the alley. He watched the patterns and noticed the shadows and the dangers and the corners.

At the appointed time, Harry headed back to Gringotts.

They were not in the same ritual room as before. In fact, they took a cart down, far deeper into Gringotts than he'd ever been before. They stopped outside a dark cavern lit with floating black candles. There was another carved Pentacle sunken into the rough stone floor, similar to the last ritual.

Harry stripped without needing to be asked this time. He carefully put his glasses, necklaces, clothes and things in his bag. Then, at the gesture of one of the attending goblins, he put it into a shielded nook in the wall. He lay in the middle of the circle, his body spread inside the Pentagram.

Bill was there, and smiled at Harry, but stayed focused on laying the black salt circle around the edge of the Pentacle. A white candle at the top point for freedom, a black for banishing, a purple for kinship and boosting psychic power, a green for new beginnings and an orange for breaking barriers. Each candle was at a different (and carefully calculated) point of the Pentacle.

The black floating candles were interspersed with other colours now and floated in a circle above the ritual circle.

Goblins were moving around with pale grey hooded robes, holding braces of smoking rosemary, chanting as they cleansed the room, with the banishing herb.

Inside the circle, runes and sigils were painted in an ink of pokeweed berry juice and blackthorn ash. They would help boost his magical awareness and heighten his magical senses.

Harry needed to cast the circle as it was his ritual. Rodgrip, Bill and the other Goblin Sages were merely providing support, power and stability; holding the circle. He'd read about it, and Rodgrip had coached him on what he needed to say when they were planning the ritual. But he'd never done anything like this before.

He gripped the Athame that Rodgrip handed him, and channelled his magic into it as best he could and prepared to cast the circle. The circle was cast starting in the east, drawing a pentacle in the air in front of him, at each cardinal point. He rotated in a sun-wise direction as he did so. Each pentacle was connected to the other by a fiery line of magic to make a full circle around them.

As he moved around the circle, the unlit candles lit up and started to float above their heads. As cast, he chanted:

"Air guardians of the east, I call upon your knowledge and intelligence. I honour and welcome you,

Fire guardians of the south, I call upon your strength and power. I honour and welcome you,

Water guardians of the West, I call upon your purity and wisdom. I honour and welcome you,

Earth guardians of the North, I call upon your strength and stability. I honour and welcome you."

He then drew a pentacle above them and below, making another circle of brightly shining magical light.

He chanted, "Mother Earth and Father Sky I call upon your love and devotion to aid and watch over your children tonight. Mother Earth and Father Sky, I honour and welcome you."

The second circle joined the first making a sphere of bright transparent light that grew around them and sank into the floor making a magical dome over them, humming with potent magic.

Next, Harry turned his focus inward, "Blood of my blood, I call to you. Ancestors, my beloved dead! I call upon you to aid your blood's child. Lend me your strength and guidance in breaking these bindings and banishing this magic, not of your own."

Something shifted, something grew. He couldn't see them, he couldn't hear them, and could not see any change, but he felt it.

Then, almost compelled he went on, unplanned, and added, "Hekate! Queen of the Witches, Goddess of the Darkened Crossroads, Goddess of my Mother, I call upon you and beg your aid. I beg of you to help your child's child."

There was a humming in the magic surrounding them. Though not physically loud, it somehow, just felt louder, stronger; filling the room. And as one, Harry, Rodgrip, Bill and the other Goblin Sages cried out, "The circle is cast, so as I say, so mote it be."

Harry handed the Athame back to the closest of the Goblin Sage's who stowed it into the belt of his ritual robe. Harry lay back down on the Pentagram. As planned, he sank into himself, meditating deeply on his magic. That was the most important thing now. He had to find and feel his magic. Rodgrip, Bill and the other Goblin Sages started chanting, magic thickened and built. But Harry did not even move an inch when they each moved forward from their point to cut his wrists and ankles, letting his blood fill the pentacle channels like last time.

They were still chanting. The candles on the floor light up, glowing red and everything got loud. Magic thrummed around him building as Rodgrip, Bill and the Goblins started chanting at the edges of the circle. The power built and swirled. It burned around him as every sense heightened. Harry delved deeper into himself, as the magic grew. The magic of the room was almost blinding now. He could actually see it! Rodgrip, Bill and the Goblin Sages; their magic felt so loud. He could feel what they felt! It was overwhelming. Even the room itself was strong; so loud. The earth vibrated with power, and he could feel his circle! It was so much! Too much.

He sank into himself looking and looking, feeling for the writhing mess of magic within him. The goblin magic pressed in on his every side. It built as they chanted; building even more power.

A potion phial was pressed to his lips. He opened his mouth and drank it, then a second. The purging potions were like drinking thick, gluey tar. It was salty, sharp and burned on the way down. He was nearly sick from the texture alone. It had his stomach cramping immediately. He tried not to think about it, remembering the slugs, vividly. He felt sick. But slowly he started to feel his magic, started to make sense of it, as if a fog in his mind was clearing. He tried to focus on his magic instead of the vile aftertaste.

He polled over onto all fours as his insides heaved. He would have been mortified that they were seeing him vomit! He was feeling too sick to care. It just kept coming out.

He screamed. Burning, his world lit up in flames.

His mind, his body; burning. An ocean of icy fire was his sky, and the earth was a molten sea of ice cradling him as he froze and burned from within and without.

Pain

Magic

It consumed him. Endless and eternal. And still... he clung to it. Still, he held onto that pain, proof of his continual existence, of his ability to survive anything, the proof of the depths he would go to to be free. Finally.

His magic burned.

It was his beginning and his ending. His whole world. He revelled in it as he despised it; his righteous punishment for daring to exist, to continue, for daring to be free, to survive. It was all he knew. He was consumed by it, eaten alive by it, as it crescendoed and he thought his mind would snap with the weight of it all; drowning under its weight...

He was kneeling in a filthy pool, covered in his own muck. He heaved again, shuddering. Black sludge spewed from his mouth. Just like the book had said the purging potions would. It hurt as much coming out, as they did going in. His arms trembled as his body tried to expel the foul magic, not his own.

"Now what?" He croaked weakly, when it had stopped. He didn't have even the energy to lift his head. Everyone stayed where they were. The chanting had stopped.

"Now you wait," Rodgrip said.

"Now the magic continues its work, and we hold your circle," Bill said.

Now that the potions had worked their way through him, purging what they could, and loosening the rest, Harry remembered suddenly, he had to free his magic. It wasn't just enough to let the purging potions go through him. He and the ritual magics still had to do the work.

"It's safe?" Harry asked weakly, feeling something running out his nose as he struggled to hold back the tide of magic rising in him.

He had to be sure, first. He had to be sure before he was swept away with it all. He wiped at his nose with a finger. He wanted to be sick again. The magic twisted in side of him.

"Gringotts ritual rooms are the safest," Rodgrip said in a firm voice that bore no argument. Harry thought there may have been worry on Rodgrip's face, as she continued, "even if your circle should fall, which it won't, the ritual circle embedded into this cavern, set before you came, shall hold. All is well, Warrior."

The chanting began again, different this time, for the second part of the ritual. He glanced at Bill, at the head of the circle, who nodded reassuringly, not stopping his chanting.

Harry could still feel the circle around him, still sense the presence of his family, his mum, not quite there, not quite a ghost, but an echo. A hint of her magic, and something older, stronger and bigger than him. Harry took comfort in that.

He let go.

He was falling, sinking deep into his own magic.

Slowly it started to make sense. The sickly ball of magic in him, felt bigger and bigger, and he could almost reach out and touch it. It bit at his skin with sharp savage teeth, but he ignored the burning and bit and clawed back at it just as savagly. He would not let it will. He would not let it chain him any longer. He would fight it with everything he had, as it did not belong, was not wanted, and it would go. He would make it go, if it was the last thing he did. Tears leaked from his eyes and he yanked at it. It burned, but he kept going. This was the only way.

He kept pulling, untangling the knot, tearing the sickly black mess from his own bright magic. He was starting to feel it now, his magic. Starting to see it now. A warm, soft, green glow in his mind's eye, in his heart. It pushed him on, giving strength to his bleeding hands. He pulled harder, tearing away the horrid black stuff from the warm beauty that was his own magic.

His magic felt even better than he thought it would. It made the glimpse he'd had of Hermione's magic, a mere shadow of the real thing. This was his. This was all him. It was home, and safety, and family, and warmth, and love all in one. And it was the best thing in the world. It was glorious and he revelled in it...

He'd never felt it before, but it got stronger and stronger the more black sludge he pulled away. Warm and alive. Goddess, how he'd wanted it. It was vibrant and strong, singing in every cell of his being, louder and brighter than any other magic he could feel. Getting louder and stronger, overpowering the burning black sludge that had poisoned them. It numbed the pain, and he pulled harder, yanking off great globs of the sticky tar-like sludge that was fighting back.

His magic was worth fighting for...

It was new and raw. But it was his, and home, and worth fighting for; he couldn't not. Even if it felt like he was tearing himself apart to free himself. The black sludge fought back, making him work for his freedom. This, he would never give up. Even if he could feel the exhaustion pulling at his bones, making him want to give up and sleep forever. To stop...

He pushed onwards, he couldn't give up on his magic. He could feel something around him, something warm and familiar and strong, like a loving caress, lending him strength. He wondered if it was his beloved dead, his mother, her Hekate. It felt bigger and older than him, but he was grateful to it. For there was one last bit of sludge clinging to him trying to tear away bits of his own. He reached out blindly in panic, to the warm presence around him.

His ancestor's, his blood, his beloved dead. They lent him strength and he drew on that gratefully; unashamedly. They lent him the strength to force almost all of the black sludge out. It floated around him, discarded and severed, inert, waiting to be banished.

But there was a tiny bit left, a tiny bit in his head surrounded by a glowing gold ball of magic that felt like his mum. The Soul Shard.

He had to get to it. Even if he had to give up his mums magic. He had to move the shard. He pushed, and pulled and yanked, putting everything he had into it. Ignoring the wet feeling coming from his ears, eyes and nose from the strain of it.

Begone, begone, begone! He cried out in his mind, drawing on the last of his strength, something shifted, he almost had it...

Darkness.

Nothingness.

He woke up with a gasp to murky water being poured over him. Buckets of it. He coughed and spluttered as he jerked curling into a ball. It stung his eyes and his skin and tasted like rust and salt.

War water.

Potent war water. Alive and bursting with furious magic, washing away everything he had cast out; protecting him. More was poured over him, cleaning him and the ritual space of all the contaminated mess the purging potions had forced out.

He'd have been relieved to have it gone, or embarrassed at being so sick in front of everyone if he was not so exhausted and sore. Even his magic hurt. It was like every nasty flu he'd had as a child all at once.

He blinked slowly. His magic. He smiled weakly. He was too tired and wrung out even to cry. He could feel his magic or what was left of it. It felt depleted, almost gone.

He was still in the circle. They were still chanting. He felt completely empty, rung out and rung dry. It was a horrible feeling. He had to finish it, though.

He clambered weakly to his feet but only managed to make it to his knees, before falling back to the wet floor. He tried again and eventually made it up. His limbs were shaking like leaves and he felt weak as a kitten. He wasn't sure how long they would hold him, so he forced out the closing lines of the ritual as the chanting died.

"Hekate, Queen of the Witches, Goddess of the Darkened Crossroads, Goddess of my mother. I thank you for your aid and help. Stay if you will, but go if you must, Hail and Farewell Hekate."

Then he added, "I thank you for your presence, Great Hekate, goddess of my mother and I." He swayed on his feet and forced himself to finish.

"Blood of my blood, my beloved dead, I thank you for your strength and guidance. Merry meet, merry part, and merry meet again; stay if you will, but go if you must. Hail and Farewell in love and peace."

He was shaking so badly now he thought he'd fall on his face. But he thought he felt something caress his face and something blessedly cool press momentarily to his burning forehead. It gave him a little bit of extra energy, to make it through the last few lines:

"Mother Earth and Father Sky, I thank you for your love and devotion in aiding and watching us this night. Hail and Farewell,

Air Guardians of the East, I thank you for your knowledge and intelligence. Hail and Farewell,

Fire Guardians of the South, I thank you for your strength and power. Hail and Farewell,

Water Guardians of the West, I thank you for your purity and wisdom. Hail and Farewell,

Earth Guardians of the North, I thank you for your strength and stability. Hail and Farewell,

The circle is open but never broken, so as I say so mote it be."

And the circle opened. Like a puppet with its strings cut, Harry fell to the floor as the weight of the completed ritual pressed down on him.

Goddess, Harry thought dimly, that had hurt. He was vaguely aware of being levitated. Being wrapped in a blanket and carried a Gringotts cart, probably heading off to the infirmary. Hekate help him, how much further did he have to go?

He wasn't sure if he'd manage any healing now. He didn't think he had any strength left.

NOTES:

There is real place in London called the The Hung Drawn And Quartered, which I passed the name, The Hung Drawn 'n' Quarters off. And Yes I know grammatical it should be hanged. Hung just sounds better.

Again, there was once a place called, The Unhinging Of Doors, it was in near Liverpool but is now no more.

I made up Murder mile motel though.

Lots of this stuff can actually be used for 'muggle' banishing magic, (pagan witchcraft)

witchipedia herb: pokeweed

Pokeweed for its 'violent purging' properties used in exorcisms

druidry library/ trees/ tree-lore-blackthorn

witchipedia mineral: black-salt

witchipedia printer-friendly/ table:color-correspondences - not the most scholarly source but it is pretty acurate, as someone who does practice the craft.

That and intent, can make up for a lot in the craft.

/ table: days-of-the-week

This circle casting is based heavily on an amalgamation of a bunch of different pagan magical traditions but mostly reclaiming. I'm a sothoutn hemisphere witch so if I've made any mistakes its because we do it a in the opposite direction down here. When in doubt do it sunwise! Because widishins is a different direction down here from up their!

The reference when he invokes Hecate with 'your Child's child' is implying that lily worshiped hecate, and she was therefore one of hecate's children and harry is Lily's child, ergo harry is the child of hecate's child (lily).

The last line of the circle closing:

This line is normally (in ritual circle casting) the circle is open but unbroken, merry meet Mary part and merry meat again, but this is a magic ritual with a super-specific intent. Its not a public ritual or a celebration ritual to bring people together or use by a covern, they are basically making a specific spell with the ritual so they end it the traditional ending of a spell, 'so as I say so mote it be.' Instead

Pentagram is the five pointed star, pentacle is the pentagram, inclosed in a circle.

And if you haven't already guess, yes I really like magical theory.


	41. Chapter 41 Recovery Discoveries

Harry spent the next 12 hours in a healing coma in the Gringotts infirmary. His bones had been regrown. It would have been agonising if they had not taken the opportunity to do it while he was unconscious.

The process had evolved a lot of finicky paralysis spells to keep everything in place while they vanished all the bones that had to be replaced. Thankfully, he slept through the worst of the Skele-Gro pain.

He woke up groggy, slowly fighting his way from the dark cloud of exhaustion that was trying to pull him under again.

He felt like an overexposed, raw nerve; over sensitive. That was the first thing he noticed. Then he noticed his bones aching. His hands really had been burned in the ritual somehow. They were heavily bandaged and smelt of Dittany and Mertlap Essence, to name a few.

Harry blinked and looked around. He could sense only one person in the room. A goblin that did not feel like Rodgrip. Harry blinked again, his brain feeling fuzzy, not sure suddenly, how to politely get a goblins attention if you weren't meant to speak first...

He sat up on the surprisingly comfortable and soft, stone bed, swinging his aching legs over the side, feeling around blindly for his glasses. The goblin spun around and came towards him, making Harry flinch.

The goblin shoved something into his hands. His glasses. He put them on as the strange goblin made a pinching motion near him. Harry pulled back sharply, wide-eyed, at the sudden movement. Not even concisely aware of raising his arms in defence. The goblin just looked at him sharply, as if to say 'you idiot,' waiting for him to lower his hands. Harry did so partially, glaring at the goblin defensively. The goblin rolled his eyes and then repeated the motion and peered at something just to the left of his left ear and nodded before leaving.

Harry blinked.

A moment later, Rodgrip reappeared.

"Riptooth has checked you over," Rodgrip said, "Your bones are fixed, the foreign magic is gone. You are almost free. You are almost well."

Harry nodded groggily, not feeling anything at all.

"You have an appointment on Wednesday night at 10 o'clock. It is now Monday night. We shall then talk about what further healing you need and look at your vaults and claiming them properly then." Rodgrip said.

Harry nodded.

"I expect from how you are trying to get off the bed that you wish to return to your lodgings?" Rodgrip asked, "do you need Cursebreaker Weasley to escort you? I can have him woken."

Harry shook his head, "I'll be okay. Thanks, though."

He didn't want anyone to know he was living in his mum's trunk on a rooftop.

There was a pop, and he stumbled as he jumped. He winced as a small hand, steadied him. Everything ached. He felt like he had the flu again.

"Dobby and Winky, be looking after Little Master Harry Potter sir!" The elf squeaked.

"Thank's Dobby," Harry said, tiredly trying in vain to force the exhaustion back.

"Make sure he gets plenty of rest and good food," the healer, Riptooth, said to Dobby, coming back into the room. "Lots of that nutrient potion he was on before if he's not to eat. A mouthful every hour while he's this poorly. A full bottle if he skips a meal; at least until I see him on Wednesday night. And don't use your magic yet!" He directed at Harry.

Dobby nodded, his ears flapping and popped away with an exhausted and bewildered Harry. They reappeared on the roof he'd been staying on. His trunk was already set-up and warded. Dobby and Winky must have done it, he thought distantly.

Dobby popped him down the ladder and hustled him into bed. Winky handed him a hot jar of bluebell flames to curl up around, some broth and a spoon full of potion.

He managed the potion and a mouthful or two of the broth before falling asleep.

As he slept Winky and Dobby quietly set up a small yule wreath, and a small tree they'd found shrunk in one of Miss Lily's drawers when it had become apparent that their wizard was going to sleep through it.

He woke up briefly on Tuesday night. Everything hurt. His body wracked with cold shivering. Everything was too loud, a migraine pounded behind his temples, leftover from having his Mage Senses so heightened. He felt like one giant exposed nerve-ending. Everything was too much, too raw. He felt too much.

Winky stoked the fire, smothered him with hot charmed blankets and fed him potions before she would let him sleep again. And despite himself, it was nice to be cared for.

He woke up on Wednesday evening, and blessedly, no longer felt sick, or as sore. He was just tired. Bone tired. The magic around the trunk felt loud, and he still felt like an exposed nerve.

He had always been able to sense magic lightly, just a hint in people, places, beings and things. But now it was like opening his eyes for the first time. The magic he could sense was so much stronger, like the world had been at a whisper before, all in greyscale, and was now suddenly filled with colour and sound.

His own magic felt just as loud. A warm feeling in his chest he now hardly had to think about to feel. He took a moment to take a deep breath and try to get his senses to settle. He took another deep breath and breathed it out, long and slow.

And it was all connected. He could have meditated on it for hours getting lost in the flow of magic inside himself and where it connected to the magic of the universe in everything else. But something warned him that getting lost in the wild magic he could sense in the earth beneath him, could very well be his end. So he just focused on his own, tentatively poking it with his mind, caressing it, becoming familiar with it. It was like a warm hug, permanently in his chest. With him, all the time.

He could feel the magic in plants and magical items now. Before, it was just a vague sense of something in strongly magical areas and in people. But now, he could feel the magic permeating every bit for the trunk; in the potions, in the ingredients, in the blanket on the bed... it was softer now. But when he put his hand on the black and green blanket, the magic in it was closer, more intense and he got the impression he couldn't quite make sense of; almost a shadow of someone.

Harry opened his eyes and blinked. After having them shut and focusing so intently on the magic around him, he half expected to be able to see it too. Thankfully, the magic he could feel so strongly before when focusing, was a little more distant now; in the background, now that he had his eyes open.

He headed into the bathroom for a shower and gaped. His hair! It was longer! His fringe had grown out and was hanging either side of his face around his chin. The rest of the normally appallingly messy hair was hanging just past his shoulders! Almost dead straight and mostly, behaved!

It grew! The bindings must have been stopping it. He rummaged around in the drawers and found one of his mum's old brushes. He'd never had to brush it before, and frankly, there was never any point. It was an odd sensation, he thought, as he gently ran the brush through his hair, tentatively trying to tug out the knots. He brushed the hair out of his face and tucked his too-long-fringe behind his ears.

He liked the long hair, he realised. Even if it did make him look rather pale, and thin, framing his face like that. His scar was visible now, though. He wondered if he should try chopping himself a fringe to hide it, or if it would just grow back...

He thought of what he'd read and heard about Metamorphmagi and thought very hard on his scar. It prickled slightly, and he could feel again that small ball of black in his forehead surrounded by his mum's protection. He screwed up his eyes in concentration, thinking very hard on an image of his scar moving.

It... didn't exactly hurt... but it was like his skin was moving and shifting. And not at all pleasant. It trailed up his forehead into his hairline. He opened his eyes when it stopped. And grinned.

No more scar! And with long hair, he might not be recognised! He still needed to be cautious, but if he could change his appearance, then he could walk around without having to hide! What else could he do?!

He worked out that changing the colour of his hair was easy if he was growing it that colour. But changing the colour without growing it that colour was harder. He had to focus on it staying that way, like the colour needed to set for a moment before he let the magical focus go. He managed to grow his nails, and change his eye colour slightly, to blue-green, and to a dark green that looked black. But he didn't manage to change them to blue or brown without them stinging.

He managed to get them to hazel though, and changed his hair to brown, and rummaged around in the drawer for a hair tie. He managed to gather it into a messy ponytail. He was relieved that he'd watched Hermione and Bill do it so often. He almost felt like he knew what he was doing, and didn't feel like a complete idiot, trying to figure it out.

He examined himself then critically in the mirror. He'd lost weight again, he sighed, during the ritual. He was looking thin again now, underfed and gaunt. He wondered if he could change that too...

He concentrated and focused on sending his magic into his cheeks. He felt a burning in his bones, and tingling in his skin, but couldn't make anything happen. He frowned, but changing his hair and eye colour was pretty good. He looked different enough.

That and he was so tired now, after all that experimenting, he had to run himself a bath and sit down instead of taking a shower. His joints ached again as if he were recovering from the flu, and despite the excitement, he didn't have much energy to feel anything.

Harry managed to dress and put the trunk in his bag and clamber down to the alley floor. He could feel the Nocturne guard eyeing him. He acted small and invisible, hoping to be ignored. He was too tired. Maybe he should have let Dobby escort him...

Someone tried to grab him. They went for his wand hand, so he kneed them in the balls and hit them hard, in the face with the handle of his knife. They grunted, collapsing to the ground. He hurried on not looking back.

He was left alone after that as he wove his way in and out of the early evening crowd towards Gringotts. He was too tired to watch his back, so he didn't protest this time, when Dobby appeared, escorting him. Just as well too, as he saw a few shadows in the mouths of the side alleys that felt slightly sinister.

Be the time he got to Gringotts and was escorted to the infirmary, he was shaking with exhaustion and ready to sleep. He could also feel the colour in his eyes fading back to his normal green, but his hair was still a light brown. Interesting.

Harry shuffled carefully into the infirmary, and the same goblin healer, Riptooth, from before stalked over to him. He said nothing but eyed Riptooth warily. But instead, the goblin just ordered, "on the bed. Let's have a look at you."

Harry eased himself up onto one of those strangely soft stone beds and snorted as he listened to the goblin mutter under his breath.

"How do you feel," he said, turning back to Harry and snapping his fingers by Harry's ear making him flinch.

Crap was his first thought.

Instead, he said, "tired," as the goblin peered at something Harry could not see, "flu-y." He added his words slurring

"That is to be expected," Rodgrip said, entering the room.

"You and your magic are still run down. You need rest and a good Pepper-up potion," the healer said.

"Heads messy," Harry muttered, "feel weak and achy, light-headed. All these things bouncin' around m' head, all the old things and the remnants of the spelled bits and I don't know what to do anymore. Everythin' is screaming 'danger, danger Will Robinson.' 'm tired," Harry slurred, with surprising honesty that confused and frightened him.

"Who is Will Robinson?" Riptooth asked, looking stumped.

"Must be a human expression," Rodgrip muttered to the healer.

The goblin made a 'humph' noise and said, "drink that," handing Harry a red potion that he recognised to be a very strong Pepper-up.

He took the proffered red potion, but his hands shook so much he had trouble with the stopper. The goblin yanked it back from him with a glare, but opened it, and shoved it towards his mouth. Harry had to open quickly, so the goblin didn't pour it down his front.

The potion felt like lightning and sparkles and tickled. He could feel the heat of its magic seeping into his own and gasped as steam started pouring out his ears and surprisingly his nose too. He breathed out a short laugh as he felt the strength of the potion infuse with his own.

He felt a tingling at his scalp, and a strand fell of hair into his face, growing longer. He went cross-eyed looking at it as it turned bright yellow then red as the steam continued to billow out his ears.

The steam stopped as he felt the magic of the potion settle. He looked interestingly at his hair and watched, bemused, as it faded back to black. He brushed it out of his eyes and hooked it behind his ear again.

"Thanks. Does Pepper-up normally do that?" he asked brightly, feeling much better than he had in a long time.

"The steam yes, and it can have odd effects on Metamorphmagi as well. You'll need to work with it now it is unblocked. It could be hypersensitive now it is free." Rodgrip explained.

Harry bit back a full grin and instead said, "I played with it this morning. I hid my scar too." Harry said quietly pleased, running a hand over his smooth forehead.

"That is good," Rodgrip said, "the fact you can access those blocked abilities already. What else do you feel now that the ritual is done?"

Harry turned his attention internally again and was able to push things back and be colder and analytical.

"I can feel magic more and people too. I used to be sensitive to them, vague emotions and such. Now I'm picking up on some thoughts and things. I noticed when I was leaving earlier." Harry said slowly.

"That will be the mind art aptitude. You'll have an easier time learning occlumency now, and you'll need to start working on Legillimency too to get that under control. Curse Breaker Weasley will tutor you. You should be able to organise extra lessons between you while you are here." Rodgrip explained, "you'll also want to practice with your magic. It will be volatile for a little while. You'll be prone to overpowering spells.

Harry nodded, "I feel like myself again, but it feels odd. Like there are gaps. I can feel it in the magic, little knots. And when I did some Occlumency exercises, I noticed little bumps, like scar tissue in my mind. It was odd. I think if I keep working on Occlumency and get to know my mind better, I think I'll be able to narrow down where and what's missing" Harry said, thinking aloud.

"That will be the Obliviates. Now the Confundus charms are removed you can sense it. We can test it for dates, but it will not help undo them." Rodgrip explained.

"And you are not yet well enough," added in Riptooth, "come back over the summer when you've finished the course of potions I'm about to put you on. Now, does anything else feel off?"

Harry thought about it. He hadn't thought so... But now his magic was settling he was starting to notice other things. He didn't want to admit it, but something did still feel odd.

His body felt different, slightly unusual. He frowned. What was it?

"Somethings wrong with me I think though..." He said, slowly closing his eyes and shifting his attention inwards again. It was harder to focus on his body now he could suddenly feel his magic. It felt new and loud still. He was not yet used to it. He scanned his body mentally trying to figure out what felt so weird. What was missing?

"You have been scanned," Riptooth said, "you are fine, if in need of some nutrition and vitamin potions. There is nothing wrong with you wizard other than the needing of a few good meals. You're underweight, from the ritual sapping your reserves. No more missing meals, three full meals a day. If you miss one, send your elf here for a different nutrient potion."

Harry nodded absently, "something doesn't feel right. It feels weird. Somethings..." He trailed off.

"Are you in pain?" Riptooth snapped.

Harry gaped. That's what it was! Nothing hurt. He didn't hurt anymore. His eyes filled involuntarily.

"No," he breathed out, awed, "it doesn't hurt any more. It doesn't hurt." He muttered to himself, staring at his hands as if he'd never seen them before.

He'd always been hurting, always at minimum low-level pain for as long as he could remember. He didn't ever remember not being in pain. His legs and hands, his feet, his ribs. Something had always ached.

He stared at himself, mouth open, his eyes stinging. He squeezed them shut, knowing better than to cry. Goddess, he could not remember the last time something didn't hurt. Relief washed through him like cool rain after a hot day.

"It doesn't hurt any more," he muttered, "it doesn't hurt anymore! I didn't know what that felt like."

He held his suddenly shaky hands up in front of him, moving them. His mouth opened slightly as he looked at his pale fingers. He wiggled them tentatively. It didn't hurt. There was nothing impeding the movement anymore. The fingers that had been crooked before were now straight, his knuckles no longer hard and swollen. Each of his fingers moved freely without the muscles pulling painfully. He flexed his hands a little more confidently, moving his wrists around.

He could hold a quill now, he thought with glee. He hadn't realised until now just how bad the problem was. But now he could move his fingers, and his hands in ways he couldn't before! He'd be able to hold and write with a quill properly now! It would be legible now!

He wiggled his toes and rolled his ankles, swinging his legs experimentally. Nothing hurt. He could feel the muscles that used to be tight and knotted were now okay.

"It doesn't hurt!" He said, looking up, not quite able to completely hide his awe.

"Well, of course, it doesn't hurt any more wizard!" Riptooth snapped as if Harry were dim.

"While you were out, not only did we fix your bones, but we did a healing ritual on you. It has not fixed everything. You still need work, but the old issues have mostly been fixed. You'll have potions to take mind you though, for a while, to get you back up to snuff."

"Thank you so much, Master Healer Riptooth," Harry said reverently, offering him a deep, respectful bow.

The goblin gave the correct bow in response and said, "right then. Now that's sorted out, here." He said, thrusting a box of potions at Harry.

"A nutrient potion every morning and night to combat your chronic malnutrition and vitamin deficiencies. It will repair your innards from the damage the starvation did. I've spoken to your elves. They know how to help you best food-wise. Listen to them. And don't skip any meals!"

He glared at Harry who nodded before he continued, "there is a bone potion every night. It is a mild Skele-Gro to build up the strength in your bones that they lack at the moment. It's mild enough that it won't hurt. You shouldn't feel much at all from it. Though if you're sensitive to potion magic now, you may feel something." The goblin explained, pointing to a different colour.

"You also have an immuno-booster potion every morning and night to get you up to snuff. When the box is empty, send it back with your elves. We will top it up. Are you taking any other potions at the moment?" He asked

"No," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Good. Rodgrip will put my coordinates into your Gringotts box. Check first before you take anything you are not 100% sure of. Most basic health potions should be fine, but do not take any mood or mind-altering potions or sedatives of any kind, Pepper-up is okay. Though, if you need one, I want to know about it." Riptooth sneered.

"I understand. Thanks," Harry said, putting the box in his bag.

"You will also have to be very careful of magical exhaustion. You're not miraculously fixed. Your body took a serious beating as a child." Riptooth said, "while the healing negates a lot of nasty long term consequences of your abuse, and returns you to being healthy, there are still things to be aware of."

Riptooth levelled Harry with a glare, and he nodded, listening attentively.

"You have new bones and joints. All physical damage has been healed, and your magic freed. But, your body and magic will remember the trauma it went through. It will need time to heal that memory, even if it is physically better. Your bones and joints may be prone to aching when sick or when you're exhausted, especially when you are magically exhausted. Not as bad as before, I expect. But it may be there. Just for a few years as it fully recovers."

"Crucio and pain curses," he continued, "while they won't hurt you more than anyone else, their effects will linger as your body and magic has already been traumatised. It will remember that trauma when triggered by pain curses."

Harry nodded. He'd never felt Crucio before, and he hoped dearly to never feel it.

"It will settle as you get older, but look after yourself. You're body and magic has been through the wars. Physically you're healed, but your soul also needs to."

Harry nodded and said, "I'll do my best."

"See that you do," Riptooth said, "your stomach may be sensitive to stress for a while too, but should not have any issues with food any more if you finish the course of nutrient potions."

Harry beamed, "thank you."

Riptooth smirked slightly and nodded.

"Does this mean I can use my magic now? Or do I need to hold off a bit?" Harry asked, not bothering to hide his eagerness.

"You can just be cautious at first. It will likely be different now that it is unbound," the gruff goblin said, before adding, "now that's me done. Get out of my ward. Don't come back injured. I don't want my hard work undone," he snapped.

But Harry did not take it as an insult and merely beamed and thanked him again sincerely, before following Rodgrip back to her office.

Before Harry could even say 'Hello,' Bill was at his side and wrapping him into a warm and gentle hug. Harry flinched away, his self-preservation instincts a lot higher since the ritual. But after a moment he was able to hug Bill back tightly. Bill's magic was louder like this when Harry was touching him. Or maybe Harry was just more sensitive now. Solid and warm and protective, comforting and just Bill. It was nice friendly magic. Like Bill was.

"You okay? Rodgrip said you were, but I was really worried!" Bill said. "It nearly killed you! Your hands were burning, and you were bleeding from your eyes and nose and ears, from everywhere! We don't often see rituals that intense!"

Harry felt warm at the young man's concern and said, "I'm okay, Bill. I was wrecked afterwards, but I feel great now. Nothing hurts! And my fingers all work right! It's great! I don't hurt any more! Not at all!" Harry said excitedly wiggling his fingers in demonstration at his new range of motion.

Bill looked heartbroken for a moment but instead said, "I'm really glad for you, Harry. And the hair!"

Harry grinned, "you were right. It behaves when it's longer. I had it long and light brown when I was in the alley. I managed to change my eye colour and moved my scar so no one will recognise me. It was great! I can't make myself taller yet, though."

"Brilliant! Well done!"

Rodgrip cut in and said, "here," she handed Harry the blood quill and parchment.

He wrote his full name on it and watched as the quill jumped up and started writing.

This time it mentioned no spells, potions or wards. It mentioned improved health and a binding. But when Harry then did the magic test again, he was disappointed to see the Soul Shard was still there. But at least this time it was 'detached & contained,' by his mother's protection magic. At least there was nothing else.

Rodgrip swore in Goblin tongue, violently and said something fast in Goblin to Bill, who nodded.

"I thought I felt something this morning," Harry said, heaving a sigh.

Rodgrip sighed as well, "so the only thing left behind was the Soul Shard. Surprisingly enough, your mother's protection has wrapped itself around the Soul Shard, keeping you somewhat protected from it. You're lucky it's small and that you managed to detach it from your own soul. So while you will still have that link, it will not be able to feed off of your magic. It is mostly one way. You'll be able to feel and sense Riddle, but we do not think it will work the other way round. We do not think he will be able to feel you, without significant effort on his part or strong un-occluded emotion on your part.

There was so much magic it seemed the two purging potions were not enough. You needed a more potent brew it seems, a master's brew. Even then, I don't think it would have been enough. It has separated it from your soul, which is good, however. So we just need to figure out how to get rid of it."

"To destroy a Soul Shard, you destroy the container." Rodgrip went on bluntly, "we shall have to work out how to kill it without killing you."

"Muggles can re-start hearts with electricity," Harry suggested, "how long would I need to be dead for? Could we not just stop my heart for a bit then re-start it?" Harry asked

"Not likely," Rodgrip said, "you'd need to be properly dead for the soul to leave and you'd not likely to come back from that. Resuscitation only works when the soul has not left. If it has not left, you're not dead enough for the Soul Shard to leave."

"A dementor? they suck souls..." Harry suggested with a shiver, "I guess we just need to get it to suck just that bit, and not mine too..." He continued.

"Yes, they're terribly cooperative," Rodgrip drolled sarcastically making Harry laugh.

"They are more likely to take it and your soul with them," Bill said.

"We'll have to do some research." Rodgrip said, "Luckily, the magic from your mother is containing it," she went on. "But you will need to work harder to learn to occlude, to stay free of it. Your mothers magic is keeping it from sensing you and feeding off your magic, but if Riddle were to get stronger-"

"Which he is," Harry cut in. "He's coming back. He has Wormtail with him, and a servant at Hogwarts. He's using it to get to me for some reason. He's coming back. And by the sounds of it, he's probably got more than this one. He'll keep coming back with these Soul Shards until their all gone, and he's stopped."

"He probably will try and come back fully. He's a determined moron like that, an obsessive one at that," Rodgrip snapped. "But Riddle is a human. Therefore he is a human problem. Let the wizards clean up their own messes for a change. It is not a Gringotts problem."

"It's not my problem either." Harry snapped, "but I'll get dragged into it, am being dragged into it."

"And what has that got to do with Gringotts?" Rodgrip snapped right back, "you just went through a painful ritual burning to free yourself from someone who wanted to make you a child soldier. And now you talk as if you want to rush into war."

"I don't!" Snapped Harry throwing his hands up in exasperated fury. "I don't want any more to do with the moronic asshole any more than you do. But you know we won't have much choice in the end. Mum died trying to save me. He was after me. Not my parents. I showed him up, so he has a point to prove now." Harry explained in a cold, harsh voice looking the goblin in the eye, daring her to disagree with him.

"Dumbledore knows about the bit of him in me. He'll use me. He's used me as a lure before and keeps trying to make me a pawn. I will be dragged into it. I don't want to be, but when both the main sides are trying to kill me or orchestrate my death, I have little choice. It's better to be forewarned and forearmed and enter on my own terms with those I trust to have my back, than being dragged in kicking and screaming like a child. End then end up dead. This is not my war, not your war, but they won't care."

Harry glared at Rodgrip. He didn't expect anyone to do anything to help him, but he'd be damned if he didn't try and persuade them that helping him with the issue, was in their best interests too. Rodgrip and Gringotts were useful. He needed that usefulness. He also liked her. She was funny. He would not beg her for help like a weak victim. But he was not above being Slytherin enough to get what he wanted, by making her think that's what she wanted too.

"You said you wanted me to live to 17 so that the vaults could properly be running again. If war comes back and vault owners die off, and whole family's worth of vaults get shut down. That makes it your problem." He said harshly with a sly cold smile, not pulling his punches.

"And besides. He gave Malfoy one to keep safe. What's to say there aren't more that he gave to other servants? They say nowhere is safer to hide things than Gringotts and Hogwarts. What if he hid them in Gringotts. It's against your laws. That makes it your problem."

Rodgrip looked at him sharply. Something like respect glinted in her eyes.

Then she grinned, "not so stupid for a wizard are you warrior? The Chief has heard the rumours and has been watching. Gringotts is prepared for war."

"Good," was all Harry said.

Turning to Bill, she ordered, "after this human is back at school. You will be transferred to Alexandria. You will research Soul Shards and report back. We need to get it out of the boy. We need to work out how many there are and how to get rid of them all. He brought trouble to Gringotts last time. He will bring it again. The bank has blacklisted Riddle for his attempted thievery and line theft."

Bill took out a notepad from his pocket and started scribbling.

"Research also how he'll bring himself back with his Soul Shards and what he could do with them." She continued, "You will continue Sunday lessons, however. But for now, lessons every day. He needs to be trained up. He needs to be ready to be a Lord and must learn occlumency to keep his mind free of this filth. That is a priority. I want him alive at 17 to run his vaults. And capable of it. Not insane from the dreams of a madman."

Bill nodded sharply, snapping off a quick hand gesture that Harry didn't recognise but thought might be like a muggle solute but, well, goblin.

"What effects are you getting from the Soul Shard already?" Rodgrip asked.

"I'm getting dreams, that's how I knew he's coming back," Harry said, going on to tell them in as much detail as he could remember about the dream. Which was a lot more than he could before.

"You'll research the possible plans he could have for his rebirth," Rodgrip said to Bill before continuing to Harry. "you're connecting to his mind then, but it is contained by your mother's protection. It won't stop the visions completely, I don't think. They will get more frequent the stronger he gets.

That is why you must occlude. The protection should keep him from feeling you, but you're still vulnerable to him detecting you if any strong emotions slip past your barriers. Occlumency is your priority now." Rodgrip said, looking sharply at Bill and Harry.

They nodded, "Harry's doing rather well," Bill said, "he could feel an attack coming before, but it was hindered by his bound magic. That should be fixed now as he can feel his magic, so he'll have an easier time feeling his own mind now, too. He can control what passive scans see now, though, by focusing intently on one thing."

"Good," she said, moving on, "now the wards. We analysed the muggle house. There were the failed remains of what could have been a blood ward if it was activated properly. It never activated and failed before it could get up to power. There were the remains of an intent ward tied to you, and a failed protection ward based off your blood specifically, that had long since faded." Rodgrip explained.

"So I never was safe there," Harry said

"No."

"I won't be going back then. Not now, not ever. And the other wards are now gone from me?"

"Yes, do you want to reset the owl ward?"

"Please."

Rodgrip pulled out another bit of paper from another drawer in her desk and drew some complicated runes and symbols on it before saying, "what exceptions and direction do you want?"

"What are my options," he asked.

"Do you want it redirecting your mail completely? We could work out a specific place, or have it all re-routed through Gringotts. Then it will be checked for curses and forwarded to you via the box. You can also set who can and can't directly owl you."

"Right then," Harry said thinking a moment, "everything redirected here first, except Gringotts, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Hermione, Luna, Neville, Hagrid and anything Hedwig collects herself. Everything else can go through here. I don't want anyone blocked from sending me mail though. It's caused me enough trouble. Maybe that is why Lupin never wrote back to me," he thought hopefully making a mental note to send him another owl.

Rodgrip scribbled for a moment then held out a knife. Harry pricked his finger and let her press the blood into the parchment. She then handed it to Harry and started chanting. The parchment lit up in flames making Harry jump, and his heart pound as the flames engulfed him. They merely tickled and were gone in a moment.

The goblin looked at Harry closely and made a few pinching motions in the air around him, as if adjusting something only she could see. Harry could feel magic shifting around him, crackling and meeting his own. He reached out to it tentatively. It crackled along his fingertips. Rodgrip then clapped her hands sharply, seven times. The magic settled into his skin like a protective blanket.

Harry blinked. It hadn't exactly vanished but seemed to blend in and become one with his own. His own magic would power the ward now.

"Thank you, Master Rodgrip."

The goblin waved a hand dismissively and said, "now you are yourself, we can discuss your accounts. But first, you must be accepted into your family's houses. It is normally done by the head of the family on a child's 7th birthday. You would normally prick your finger and press your blood to the family ring and speak ritual words."

The goblin tapped her desk briefly, ordered something in goblin tongue and then continued speaking to Harry, "that is not something we can do, as you are the only one left in most of your houses. But we do have the rings, so we can do a modified version of the ritual."

There was a knock on the door, and a younger-looking goblin came in holding a wooden box. He placed it on the table and left without a word. Rodgrip opened the box and placed four rings on the table. Two silver signet rings, a large gold one and a small gold one.

"We have the head's ring for the Gryffindor, Slytherin and Black Houses. They are automatically returned upon the death of the head unless passed directly to the current heir," Rogdip explained.

"But not the Potter ring...?" Harry asked curiously, dread growing in his gut.

"No, it's not here. It was accepted by your father upon his father's death. But for some reason, it did not return to us, upon his death. We have our theories about it being in Godric's Hollow. But we only have the heir ring at the moment."

She picked up the small gold ring, "this is the Potter Heir Ring."

"What do I need to do to accept my place in the family?" Harry asked curiously, dying to have a closer look at the rings.

"You take the family ring, prick your finger and say that you, your name, blood of, your family, take up and accept your position of the house." The goblin explained, handing Harry a knife.

"Potter first," she said, handing over the small gold signet ring. It had a crest on it with, when he peered at it closely, a griffin.

Biting down his questions, he pricked his finger and pressed the blood to the crest. The ring seemed to grow hot, and he thought that for a moment, the griffin actually looked more like a thestral. The eyes of the thestral glowed as the magic of the ring seemed to reach out to him; testing him. It then settled, as he said, "I, Hadrian James Evans-Potter, Blood of The Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter, do take up and accept my place in House Potter."

The magic seemed to swell in him as if waking from a deep slumber. It wrapped around him, testing and accepting him before it settled once more. And the thestral was just a griffin again.

"Black next," the goblin said accepting the Potter ring back and handing over the Black ring. The Black ring had ravens on its crest. It was a heavy silver ring and felt cold to the touch.

He pricked his finger as he said the words, "I, Hadrian James Evans-Potter, Blood of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, do take up and accept my place in House Black."

The magic of the ring, again reached out to him, cold, as it wrapped around him, testing; sharper. But the eyes of the ravens glowed briefly, and the ring's magic seemed to waken the cold magic within himself. It flared, and he watched sparks light up and vanish along his fingertips.

He swapped the ring for the Gold Gryffindor ring, trying not to feel bitter about being cast out of his own house. Would it accept him?

It did. The ring's magic flared testing him and awoke his own Gryffindor magic, warm and bright, flaring brightly in his chest. He was still a Gryffindor. He just wasn't one of them who had cast him out. They were no true Gryffindor's and he'd never be one of their kind of Gryffindor.

Something settled in him that hadn't felt quite right since he'd been un-housed, and he finally took up the Slytherin ring. Like the Black ring, it was heavy and silver. Like the Gryffindor ring, it's crest was the same as the Slytherin House crest he'd seen at school.

He pricked his finger and said the words. The ring's magic whispered around him, testing him like a snake tasting the air. His own magic flared again as he was accepted and for the first time, he felt like he belonged somewhere.

ENDNOTES:

Goblins celebrate yule and did so while harry was out of it. Harry was to sick to notice and therefore missed the alley festivities.

Likewise with Christmas. He's never been too keen on it. It was because everyone else did that he cared about it. Goblins do not celebrate Christmas.


	42. Chapter 42 Accepting the Heirdom

"Before we get into accounts and things though," Harry said, "can you shed any light on how I'm part of these houses? I still don't really understand the inheritance's listed."

Rodgrip pulled out a scroll and tapped it with a long finger. It grew and unrolled itself to show his family tree. Harry's name was down the bottom and branched up into hundreds and hundreds of names.

"Well," Rodgrip said, "you are, through your father, the heir of House Potter, formerly known as House Peverell." She started tapping the family tree. Harry's father's line glowed yellow making it stand out from all the other names on the tree.

"You are also related to House Black on your paternal side. Your father's mother was Dorea Black." She tapped the tree again, and the Black line lit up in purple.

"The intriguing bit is that the lines of House Gryffindor and House Slytherin, long thought extinct, were not in fact. They merely went dormant. You are part of those two houses through your Maternal side," she continued. "The last descendants until now were squibs. Your mother was the first magical of those lines in a very long time. But as a currently patriarchal house, she could not take up the mantle. As her son, those dormant titles fall to you." Rodgrip tapped the tree again, and those two houses lit up in red and green respectively.

"Riddle said he was the Slytherin's heir," Harry cut in.

"Riddle is a liar," Rodgrip spat. "His father was a muggle, but his mother was a Gaunt. The Gaunts prided themselves in being Slytherin's descendants. They may have been genetically descendent, but they were not, however, actually heirs or even part of that house. Their Slytherin ancestor, Isolde Slytherin, was disowned when she married Convictus Gaunt. The Gaunts at the time were, very inbred and rather rich. They had been a once prominent part of society however they became caught up in a scandal involving kidnapping, murder and pyromania. They ended up shunned and never quite recovered.

Isolde was completely disowned for her 'shameful' actions in eloping with Convictus." Rodgrip went on, "so technically the Gaunts were related genetically to the Slytherin line, but they were not part of House Slytherin."

"So how was mum a Slytherin then?" Harry asked curiously.

"The last Slytherin had two children, a girl and a boy. The eldest, as a girl, could not inherit. That was Isolde." She pointed to a name, Isolde Merope Gaunt.

"The younger boy was a squib. So he was abandoned in the muggle world, but not actually disowned. Abandoned squibs often died, so they probably didn't bother with proper disownment in those days. But he survived. Your mother is the descendent of that Slytherin."

She pointed to another name on the tree, Marvolo Slytherin, "the squib had no magic, so he could not inherit. That left the line to go dormant when Isolde's parents were murdered before they could sire more children to carry on the line. That is why so many people believed it to be extinct. And the fact all other Slytherins had died is why the Gaunts got away with the saying they were Slytherins. They are not."

"The Gryffindors ended also with one girl who was also a squib. She was sent out in the muggle world. Unfortunately, again, her parents died without any other children. So the line fell to her, but as she was both female and a squib, she could not inherit. So again, it falls to you.

"What does that mean for me? I've started reading up on houses and things, but I'm still not too familiar with them?" Harry asked, "And why couldn't mum inherit? That's not very fair."

"It depends on the house." Rodgrip explained after muttering something unfavourable about the gender inequality in the Wizarding world. "The Potters were patriarchal, as are the Blacks, the Gryffindors and the Slytherins. But some houses are matriarchal or just don't care about gender. It depends on the house. Really you wizards cut off your noses to spite your faces in thinking males and females are all that different."

Harry snorted and nodded before asking, "why did the Peverell's become Potter's? Potter seems to just appear out of nowhere," he pointed to Linfred, the Potterer on the tree.

"And if they did appear out of nowhere, then why are they Most Nobel and Most Ancient, whereas the Blacks seem older and are only Noble and Most Ancient?" Harry continued.

"The Peverells are," Rodgrip explained, "like the Slytherin and Gryffindor houses, far older than the Blacks going back a very long way. That is why they are Most Nobel and Most Ancient, instead of just Nobel and Most Ancient. They have also played an important part in society.

The Peverells were in danger of dying out like Slytherin and Gryffindor were thought to. People kept killing them. After the last three brothers made three powerful artefacts, known as the Deathly Hallows-"

"They're real?" Harry cut in, "the Peverell brothers are the ones in the Tale of the Three Brothers from Beatle the Bard?"

"Once upon a time, in some way most probably," she snapped with a huff. "The oldest two brothers died. One murdered for his wand, the other killed himself to be with his dead wife, mad with grief. The last, Ignotus Peverell died of old age. Iolanthe Peverell was his granddaughter. She married the Potterer's son Hadwin," she pointed to the tree again. "Her son was eligible to inherit the Peverell title. But after all the trouble her family had had from the Hallows, she evidently thought it prudent to change the family title to Potter. It was safer if people thought the Peverells had died out.

Usually, the son would have had to take the Peverell name to take up the title. Iolanthe took her family overseas, and her son take up the family mantle of Peverell re-naming the house to Potter. When they eventually came back to England, they were known for their highly successful potions business.

That is how Lindfred, the Potterer got his name originally. By that stage, they had an equally successful pottery business too. That was only prudent really, they needed something to put their potions and salves in." Rodgrip went on, "People assumed that the Peverell line died out. The Potters have kept it that way. Even today, people are killed over the Hallows.

"Did my parents know about the Peverells?" Harry asked curiously.

"No." Rodgrip said shortly, "your grandparents died shortly before your father finished school. He never took up the family mantle properly." She sneered, "he was rather dismissive of Pureblood society and nobility. He was scornful of his duty to his House. Only the heads were ever told about the Potters really being Peverells."

"But I thought James Potter had the ring?" Harry asked, confused, "that's why we think it's at their old house. And how do you know?"

She gave him a withering look, "we, goblins keep track of family lines." She said shortly, rolling up the large family tree, "and he did have the ring. He just didn't put it on and accept the mantle. If James had, we would know. If he had not had it, it would have automatically returned to the Potter vault upon his father Charlus, death."

Harry nodded, turning over the information in his mind. Peverell. He was a Peverell. And everyone thought the linage dead. It wasn't. It had been hiding in plain sight...

Harry accepted the rolled up family tree from Rodgrip and stowed it in his bag. He would study it later.

"Theoretically," Harry asked slowly, "could House Potter take up the name Peverell again? As they became House Potter, but in reverse?"

"Harry?" Bill asked.

"Theoretically, once you have taken up the lordship," Rodgrip said.

"So in regards to names could I take on the Peverell name?" Harry asked.

"You could," Rodgrip said, "but first, as you are the last of your line for Potter, Gryffindor and Slytherin you can claim the heirdom and wear the rings now. Usually one can only take up the heirdom when they are of age, or emancipated. But your are the last of the line, as are able to claim them now. The Black will have to wait until you are emancipated to officially step up as heir as you are not the last of that line." Rodgrip said, pushing three small rings towards him.

Harry thought about it for a moment. Being heir didn't give him much more power than he'd had before, but it did give him a bit more status. That could be useful. and it would allow him to start taking charge of his houses too and reviewing the house's political stance's. It would help him prepare to take on the lordship when the time came and to build his case against Dumbledore. There were laws protecting heirs. Laws Dumbledore had and would continue to break. It also offered him a measure of protection. And if he took his friends under the protection of his houses, it would protect them too. Maybe it would help him keep them safe from the second task.

And it was his family.

He nodded and picked up the Potter heir ring. His Grandfather had worn this. He frowned. He'd started reading about the Potter family in the Grimoire. His father did not seem to have been much good as an heir. Harry vowed to do better, to return the House of Peverell to its former glory.

"I, Hadrian James Evans-Potter, do hereby claim my place as heir to the Potter family." The words flowed from his mouth, as had the words flowed from the mouths of heirs before him.

Then he added, "I, Hadrian James Evans-Potter, do hereby claim my place as heir to the Peverell family." It felt right. The Potters were once Peverells. Maybe it was time for the Peverell's to make a comeback. He was sick of being Harry-Bloody-Potter, the freak. The Boy Who Wouldn't Fucking Die.

But Hadrian Peverell, maybe he could make something of that. Perhaps he could be someone. Perhaps, Hadrian Peverell could be free enough to be someone. Maybe Hadrian Peverell could be himself where Harry-Sodding-Potter could not?

Hadrian Evans Peverell.

He wasn't going to let his mother's family go. He may be willing to discard his father's name, but not his mother's and not his ancestor's.

The ancient magic of the ring shifted as if he'd passed some sort of unspoken test. The ring warmed as he slid it onto his finger and fit like a glove. The ancient magic of his family swirled around him and like during the ritual, he could almost feel his family, his beloved dead around him. The griffin on the Potter ring shifted slightly and shivered, leaving the ring and standing before him as if it were a Patronus. It shook again, and the Peverell thestral was standing before him. Tall and old and humming deeply with family magic. He leant his head against it.

"The most Novel and Most ancient house of Peverell will stand tall as it once did. We were and will always be Peverell's." He murmured into the thestral's straggly but soft main.

The magic built and sunk into his skin, but the thestral didn't leave. It was waiting.

Rodgrip handed him a smaller ring. He put on the Slytherin heir ring next and spoke the same ritual words.

"I, Hadrian James Evans-Potter, do hereby claim my place as heir to the Slytherin family."

The snake on the ring hissed at him and rose up out of the ring. It too looked like a Patronus and hissed at him.

He hissed back at it, returning it's greeting as the cool Slytherin magic tested him, tasted him and found him worthy.

The snake settled on the back of the thestral, waiting.

He took the Gryffindor heir ring, "I, Hadrian James Evans-Potter, do hereby claim my place as heir to the Gryffindor family." The Gryffindor lion rose out of the ring with a silent roar, landing next to the thestral and the snake. The magic rose, testing him. The animals looked at him for a moment, before leaping at him.

He stood his ground. They were his family, his family's magic. They would never harm him. They dived into him and were gone.

He blinked, a little awestruck and looked down at the now single ring on his finger. One ring, 3 crests around the band. Recalling what his book has said, he twisted the band slightly, willing it...

And it vanished. Or appeared to. Invisible but still present.

He sat down on slightly shaky legs.

"The Black Heirdom needs to wait until I have been emancipated, doesn't it?" He asked.

"Correct," Rodgrip said, "Heirdoms are normally only taken up at 17, or upon emancipation is some cases. Unless you are the last of the line. As there are other Blacks, despite you being the named heir. You'll need to wait until you're emancipated."

"Probably just as well," Harry said. "Any other house members are automatically informed when a Head or Heir takes up the mantle."

Harry went on, recalling what he'd studied, "that means Malfoy, his mother Narssisa nee Black, and Sirius will know. If Sirius knows then Dumbledore knows. And if the Malfoys know, that means Riddle will know. He's not back yet, but he will be. Stealth is far more advantageous."

"I need to review the house's," he continued. "I need a complete audit and recall of every house possession and heirloom that may be outside of the vaults. I need to see any house paperwork. Do we have a grimoire or record book? I also need lessons on politics and working the Wizengamot. I can't take the seat until I'm seventeen, but I can run it from when I am emancipated. I need to know who has it now, what choices they made, and what I disagree with so I can change them. I did not set any proxies, so I should be able to use the laws to my advantage and overturn any decisions I disagree with"

Rodgrip cackled with a sharp grin, "this is going to be a delight. The fox is among the henhouse now." She barked out something in goblin tongue again and said to Bill, "your schedule will be shifted to England for the rest of his holidays. You will be tutoring him every day. He is still too far behind."

Bill grinned sharply, in a slightly goblinesque way, "yes, ma'am."

"Now to your accounts," Rodgrip said, pulling them back on track, and taking out the ledger. She removed a sheet of parchment for Harry, "we have started the audits."

"The Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter

7 Wizengamot votes - held by Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore - corrupt proxy - 31st October 1985

Potter Trust Vault #687 Hadrian James Evans-Potter

Potter Wife Trust Vault# 342 Lily Evans closed

Potter Heirloom Vault #802

Potter Coin Vault #804

Shrieking Shack, Hogsmeade

Godric's Hollow - sealed by the ministry

Potter manor - destroyed

50% of #4 privet drive - illegally taken possession

The Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin

7 Wizengamot votes - dormant seats

Vault #1032

25% Hogwarts property

Slytherin Manor Little Hanglton - destroyed, land magically corrupt.

The Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Gryffindor

7 Wizengamot votes - dormant seats

Vault #1038

25% Hogwarts property

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

7 Wizengamot votes - held by Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore - corrupt proxy - 31st October 1985

Black Trust Vault #601 Nassissa Black Malfoy

Black Trust Vault #602 Andromeda Black - sealed by disownment

Black Trust Vault #603 Bellatrix Black Lestrange

Black Trust Vault # 605 Sirius Aracticus Black

Black Trust Vault # 606 Hadrian James Evans-Potter - merged into Potter Trust Vault #687

Black Trust Vault # 607 Draco Lucious Malfoy

Heirloom Vault #798

Coin Vault #799

Black Townhouse, 12 Grimmald Place

Black Manor

Black beach retreat."

"I have houses. Malfoy is family!" Harry said surprised and somewhat disgusted at the idea of Malfoy being related to him. Wasn't Dudley enough?

"You are. Though Draco Malfoy has not been officially accepted into the family as Narcissa married into the Malfoy family making her son a Black only through her," Rodgrip said, "with the head absent she has not been able to have young Malfoy formally accepted into the family yet."

"And technically most purebloods are related," Bill added.

"Yes, he introduces himself as the Black heir," Harry said thinking back, "I didn't correct him. I figured I'd save that for later when it suits me, and can do the most damage to the little prick. But still..." harry said

Rodgrip snorted, "arrogant wizard. I wish to hear about it when you do use that against him. The Malfoys are not pleasant wizards to deal with."

"They're really not." Harry agreed, "anyway. How do I own half of Privet Drive?"

"I do not know, but you could use it to keep your relatives in line, should you somehow be forced back. As half the house is yours, they cannot expect payment in any form for you staying there. You should demand they buy out your half or pay you rent." Rodgrip said, "and, you could threaten to expose their fraud."

"Fraud?" Harry asked.

"We have only just begun the Potter account audits, but they, along with Dumbledore, have both being getting stipends for your care."

Harry clenched his fists and had to stop himself say a lot of nasty choice words.

"I want it back. Every penny." Harry said icily, "I never once benefited from that money supposedly going to my care. I want every knut and penny back. I want them paying for what they have done to me. They also owe me rent for the years if they've been living in my half of the house."

He took a deep breath, "I want the rent. But in the meantime, I will use the threat of fraud, to keep them from touching me until I am out for good. Then I will rip them apart. I can use the rent I'll get off them as a source of income for the moment. Please chase down the back rent they owe me."

Rodgrip grinned savagely, "good. Sign these three," she said shoving papers at him.

"We can start the official audit now. We will recall all your family heirlooms and any property that may have been taken out of the vaults." She said as Harry signed the forms with a quill. "We will chase the back rent and make sure they can't spread rumours about it."

"Thanks," Harry said when he'd read it and sighed them.

"We looked into the size of your yearly trust allowance as well. According to the charter, your guardians are to pay for your school things, leaving the trust for non-essentials, practice investments and play money. That could be why it is so restricted." Rodgrip hypothesised, "both your guardian's stipends are more than enough to support you and then some."

Harry snorted, "like they'd do that, and Dumbledore knows it. I've asked him before about my allowance. He said it was perfectly adequate for my school things. He's doing it to make it hard for me to get extras, to get the proper books I need. He wants me brainless; a stupid pawn who won't question the chess master. What else as has come up?"

"Another discrepancy is the 1500 galleons removed in your first year to pay for a Nimbus 2000 and the 2700 galleons removed last year to pay for a Firebolt. Both signed by Dumbledore at the request of your Head of House."

"What?" Harry said, "I thought the brooms were meant to be gifts? The Nimbus in first year was a gift as I didn't have one. I thanked McGonagall for it, and she said specifically that 'it was her pleasure to give it to me, as she knew I'd use it well. Hogwarts was happy to pay for it for its youngest seeker.'

And I was told by Sirius that he paid for the Firebolt from his own vault. McGonagall was just having it tested for curses. She didn't get a new one. She just said it would be stripped down and I'd have it back soon..."

Rodgrip raised an eyebrow, "no one strips a new patented broom of its charms without destroying it." She said shortly, "its part of the charm patent protection. Anyone who pulls a patented design apart destroys the object protecting the patent's secrets."

Harry scowled, "It was a gift, it was untampered with! They had no right to destroy my property. They could have just sent it to the company to get it checked! They had no right! And the Nimbus! If I had known I would have picked something more affordable. I wouldn't have chosen an expensive racing broom when I needed clothes and school supplies instead!" Harry fumed.

Rodgrip nodded, "when the time comes, we can add the Firebolt and destruction of property to the charges. Maybe the Nimbus if we can get Dumbledore officially declared as a fraudulent guardian. If we can prove he should never have been, we can overturn and charge him with fraud for all his decisions and get the money he was given for your care returned to you from his own vaults."

Harry sighed, "it's not about the money. I have that, even if I can't touch it. It's about the fact that he's screwing with me and making crappy choices for me and being a manipulative moron!" Harry fumed, "does it say anything about my owl?"

"Your owl was also pre-paid by Dumbledore. That was the only thing he did buy for you with the money he removed specifically for your care."

"So, it is possible he chose her so that he could track my mail easily," Harry sighed. "One day, that man is going to pay," Harry grummbled, "until that happy day, I want every vault I have control over blood warded. No-one not blood can get in, or take anything out without someone who is blood. I may not be able to do anything about Dumbledore yet, but I don't want him being able to access my vaults. The same should be done with the Black vaults as soon as I have the authority."

"We have only really touched the surface of what is all there," Rodgrip said with a nod. "We will have a better idea at Ostara and will be able to give you a proper report then. We will now start recalling all family heirlooms."

"Good. The old fool had my fathers invisibility cloak, so I expect he has stolen other things as well," Harry fumed. "What can you tell me about the properties?" He asked moving on.

"Nothing about Slytherin. And little about the others. We will have to investigate them."

"I'd like to know what their like, what's in them, what wards they have, and if they have any curses on them or anything," Harry said.

Rodgrip nodded, "look's like you'll have more to do while in England then Weasley."

Bill grinned and nodded, "brilliant, ancient abandoned houses always have weird curses and wards on them," he said happily.

"My parent's house I want back," Harry said, "the ministry have no right to it. Can I do that before I'm emancipated?"

"You can, but I wouldn't expect to win it." Rodgrip said, "they'll see you as a child and disregard it. Wait until you are of age and the Lord of the House."

"Best to wait then. I'll go visit it and check it out though. If it lets me in" Harry said.

"Depending on what wards were left from your parents from before the ministry sealed it, the house itself may still let you in. As the rightful owner, it may override the ministry seal. It won't remove it. but it may let you in," Bill said.

Harry nodded in thanks and said, "so I can't do anything about the Wizengamot seats until I'm emancipated either."

"No, but we looked into your marriage contract," Rodgrip said, and Harry perked up a bit.

"The contract was set up after you saved Ginevra's life in order to nullify her Life Debts. So we cannot use the debt to break the contract." Rodgrip went on and Harry slumped a little.

"Mum obviously didn't want a debt over Ginny's head," Bill sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. "She must have seen the debt as a good opportunity for her daughter, who had always been obsessed with you. Marriage is an old form of payment for Life Debts."

"So I can't do anything about it?" Harry asked, raising an annoyed eyebrow.

"I didn't say that," snapped Rodgrip, "you humans are so impatient! Dumbledore and Molly Weasley counter-signed the marriage contract on your behalves. So as with fraud, one way is to prove he was never rightfully your guardian and that he had no right to make those decisions. That will break the contract. The next option is emancipation before the date set in the contract for the marriage, which is a month from your 17th birthday. If you are emancipated, you are in charge of your affairs and can break it yourself before then.

Or you can ritually take a known name now."

"A person has three names in our culture. The given name, the true name and the known name." Bill explained, seeing Harry's confused look.

"When a child is born, their parents name them. That is their given name, though it can be changed in ritual, which is then called the true name. The true name is the name you take yourself. The given name & true name is the name used for contracts, official purposes, oaths and formal occasions," he went on.

"People are generally referred to by their known name. That can not be used for contracts or for any official purposes though it can be used for oaths. A known name is set in ritual. You don't have one, it would have been listed on the tests that we did.

Because you don't have a known name, and Dumbledore is your guardian, he agreed to the contracts on your behalf. He didn't know your given name, only Harry James Potter. And Harry James Potter is what he assumed your given name was, not actually your name. But because you had not ritually set a known name, he could use what he thought was your name to bind you."

"So I can set a known name, and that means only my true name can bind me, and by setting a known name, he can't use what he thinks is my name, to bind me in any contracts? That will protect me until I can be emancipated." Harry parroted making sure he had it correctly.

"Yes," Rodgrip replied

"Which means if you take a true name that is the only name that can be used to bind you. So he has to have that. If you set it now, he cannot bind you to any more contracts unless he knows your true name." Bill said.

"So the easiest way to break the contract is to set a different known name from the contract."

"Precisely," Rodrid said with a savage grin.

Harry set his known name to Hadrian Evans Peverell after his mother and his ancestors. Removing the name Potter and all it held, the fame, the stares and his father. He also then added a second known name, an alias to go by in Nocturne, Hadrian Lilyson. Similar enough, but not one anyone would ever think to connect with him. Not when most wizards were so illogical and placed little importance on his mother when they all admired his bastard of a father.

The ritual was simple enough. He had to state his given name and his official known name, then his secondary known name, and write them with a blood quill. This Blood quill carved the names into his skin, rather uncomfortably, then healed with a flash of gold.

Rodgrip then pulled out the betrothal contract with an undisguised smirk. The edges had started to shrivel, and it had gone a pale grey colour. The words 'voided' burnt themselves into its the centre.

"It has been voided." Rodgrip said and Harry sagged in relief.

"Sorry," he said to Bill, "but I will not be forced to marry someone."

"It's okay, I understand, I don't want you or Gin forced into anything," Bill replied, placing a warm hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Notifications will be sent out automatically, though for a fee, they could get 'lost.'" Rodgrip said, predicting Harry's next question accurately.

"Yes please," Harry said

"Done," said Rodgrip, scribbling an invoice for Harry to sign, that again, authorised Gringotts to take the fees from the family vault.

Harry sighed and asked, "now what about the Basilisk. I went down to take photos of it the other week when I couldn't sleep. It's huge. I can probably sneak people in, but it will be hard to go unnoticed. And it's far too big for me to remove myself."

"Portkey maybe?" offered Bill as Harry dug around in his bag, for the photos.

"Hogwarts has wards stopping portkeys," Harry said, "unless Dumbledore makes an exception himself."

"You're the heir. So you can bend the wards. You should be able to connect to the castle and her wards now that you've taken your place in the house. Ask her nicely." Bill said

Harry thought for a moment then said, "you know, I think Hogwarts might actually do that if I ask. I think she likes me."

"Or we send a team in during one of the tasks when everyone is busy." Rodgrip suggested as she examined the photos "we send in a large team to box it up. We have special crates for transporting large specimens. It can be brought back here to be properly butchered and harvested."

Harry nodded and said, "lovely. I'll work out if I can bend the wards and get back to you once term goes back. Will we use the second task? Or the third, which as the end one, maybe bigger and busier. Making it easier to hide behind.

"We can discuss the details later when we know if we are using a Portkey or sneaking in. This is an impressive kill, Warrior" Rodgrip said.

"Thanks. So what are the fees like?" Harry asked pragmatically taking the photos back.

Rodgrip grinned viciously, and Bill winced. Harry could sense his apprehension and worry. What was he concerned about? Harry turned to look at Bill, raising an eyebrow in question.

But when he met Bill's eyes, something curious happened.

Between one blink and the next Harry got... not really an image or a thought... but he got an impression. An impression of arguing, a savage satisfaction, and something that felt like caution... Worry for him. Haggling, Harry's mind translated.

The more vicious you are, the happier they are, don't let them fool you or rip you off.

Harry suddenly remembered a passage from one of Master Scribe Ripqill's books about goblin culture and the vicious haggling that was part of it. Aim high always, then haggle it down to a reasonable price. Play vicious, play hard. Be honourable, but take all you can and don't back down.

Harry blinked and the moment was gone, passed in less than a second. He offered a tiny nod to Bill and turned back to Rodgrip who was still grinning savagely; who's magic and emotions felt just as gleeful. She would enjoy this, and she would charge him as much as she could possibly get away with. That was the nature of Goblin's and their culture.

Harry let a cold hard smile slide on to his face. This was a fight he'd be able to enjoy. He'd be able to be as hard and harsh as he liked because she was too. And that was the lay of the land here. His smile turned into a grin as they proceeded to rip into each other haggling viciously over the price and terms of the bargain. Neither backing down until they both had what they wanted.

Bill breathed a small sigh of relief that Harry had stood his ground. He'd been worried Harry would let himself be pushed around, or would offended Rodgrip.

The goblins would harvest the basilisk for a portion of the meat and skin. The rest (minus a few things Harry wanted to keep himself) would be sold off at auction, with the goblins getting a small profit from the sales for their work.

The proceeds would go into a vault for Harry outside of Dumbledore's control, (along with the back rent from Privet Drive.) And each of the basilisk's victims would get a small portion of the profits, as soon as Harry was free of Dumbledore.

"Now Weasley" Rodgrip said when they had finished up, "you're needed next down in Vault 904 with Giptuck. A curse exploded in there, and it's a mess." Rodgrip said as they were leaving, "we'll work the investigation of the properties for wards and curses into your schedule as well. We'll send a team of you over to survey them."

"Is she your boss?" Harry asked later when they were leaving the bank.

"No. Gringotts is a whole community, not just one goblin. It is a bank and a nation. Gringotts moves around its resources where they're best used. So, I mostly work in Egypt for Nargaz, because I'm good at those curses. And I like it there too. But when I ask to be moved to England on breaks and things, they put me to work here. It may seem intense, but I like it. I'm happiest when I'm busy."

Harry thought about it for a moment, then nodded. He understood that.

"But you don't want to spend Christmas with your family?"

"If I want time off to spend Christmas with family, I can ask for it. But I took a few days off after finishing up the last dig to spend Yule in Romania with Charlie. We normally take a day or two off over Yule and either he comes to me in Egypt or I go to him. Besides, most of my other siblings are at Hogwarts."

"So you don't spend Christmas with your family?"

Bill sighed, "I don't really celebrate Christmas," he said fiddling with the ends of his ponytail.

"It's not only a muggle festival, and a commercial one at that, but also a Christian one. Not my jam. But my family does like it, so I'll send them their Yule gifts then. But no I don't really spend Christmas with them here that often."

Harry was asking, "why," before he could stop himself.

Bill's magic shifted like an incoming tide next to Harry and Harry could sense his turmoil. He regretted his curiosity now. He wanted to comfort Bill in some way but wasn't really sure how.

Bill looked at the sky briefly then said, "it's complicated. Harry."

He then added, "family is complicated," with a slightly defeated sigh as if expecting something not nice.

Harry's first response was, 'but your family is so nice,' but then he thought of the Dursley's and his dad. People thought they were nice too.

Harry just nodded, leaning into Bill's side as he looked at Bill with concern in his eyes, "yeah, family is complicated."

Bill wrapped an arm around Harry in response, so Harry looped his arms around Bills waist and hugged him tightly, pressing his face into Bill's side. Now he had permission to hug Bill, (and Charlie) as much as he liked; now that he knew he wouldn't be turned away... He just couldn't seem to get enough of the warm friendly contact. He felt starved for it..

Bill nodded, running a hand up and down Harry's bony back, "yep. Now you gonna be okay out there?"

"Course. I'm not a kid."

"Your 14." Bill said flatly, "You could get mugged."

"Yep and I kneed him in the balls," Harry said dismissively.

"Ouch," Bill winced, "nice. Seriously though...?"

"I may be 14, but I practically raised my self. I can handle Nocturne, promise. I can watch my back. Anyway, I like it so far. If I get into trouble, I'll take shelter in Gringotts." Harry said, looking up at Bill.

"When do you want to start those lessons?" Bill asked.

Harry shrugged, not moving, enjoying the feeling of Bill's magic around him, temporarily drowning out all the other magic saturating the world around him.

"Saturday, 7pm? Give's you a bit of time to recover and get used to everything?" Bill suggested, "we can meet first thing every evening, I'm assuming you've shifted over to Nocturnal time?"

"Sounds good," Harry said, nodding into Bill's side, and trying to restrain himself from snuggling in impossibly closer. He hadn't realised how overwhelmed he'd gotten from all the magic, from sensing everyone else, until Bill's magic was enveloping him; drowning it all out.

"My mind feels different. It's a bit scary." He mumbled.

"You want to do some occlumency now?" Bill asked, running a hand up and down Harry's back again, making him shudder.

Harry huffed into Bills side thinking about it a moment, "no. I think I need to let it all settle, meditate on it and get used to it. I need to focus on magic to do Occlumency, and it's all so loud I can't make any sense of it."

"Fair enough, you okay? It's not overwhelming you too much?" Bill said worriedly.

"It's really loud," Harry murmured quietly, holding Bill tighter, "it's quieter here, though."

"Take a deep breath, Harry," said Bill. his hand making a line of heat burning comfortably down his back.

"Deep, slow breaths," he said, "feel mine, and mimic it okay?"

Harry nodded, focusing on Bill's breathing and his own.

"Just focus on your breath, nothing else," Bill said soothingly.

Slowly the world began to dim again. The magic didn't go away. It never would, but it wasn't so blindingly, deafeningly loud now. It faded into the background a little more.

"Thanks," he said shakily, still not letting go of Bill.

"That's okay," Bill said patting Harry on the back, "just focus on your breath when it gets too much. It will ground you. Now I have a book I can lend you on Mage Sense. And I can give you some exercises to practice that will help you control it more and get used to it. I'll give them to you in the next lesson. But for now, focus on grounding, and not letting it get too loud. Don't focus on making the individual layers of magic make sense. Just focus on not getting overwhelmed by it, okay?"

Harry nodded again, "once it settles and I get used to it I'll be okay. I have tricks and things I worked out when I first got to Hogwarts. It was overwhelming then too. Especially compared to the muggle world. I'll be okay once all the newness settles.

"If you're sure. You can send me a message via the box any time," Bill said giving Harry another squeeze before pulling away, "I'm in London for the rest of your break. Let me know if you need anything."

"I will." Harry nodded before finally reluctantly stepping back.

"Okay, I'll see you on Saturday then." Bill said, "outside the White Wyrvin, and you can show me where you're staying."

Harry nodded, trying to control his slight panic. He didn't have anywhere to stay yet and didn't want Bill knowing he was on the streets in a trunk! He didn't want Bill thinking he was helpless or couldn't look after himself. Be wasn't a baby!

"I better go then," Bill said, giving Harry another hug. "They've been having trouble with that vault for a while. The last owner stuck some really funky stuff in it. It's going to be a mess to clean up." Bill said with a groan, "it will be fun though. I'll tell you about it next time if you like, depending on how much confidentiality they stamp all over the report when we've finished it," he added with a grin.

Harry grinned and waved Bill off before slipping back into the bustle of Nocturne Alley.

END NOTES

Ostara is the spring equinox (march in the NH, September in the SH) - so she's basically saying they'll know more at easter break


	43. Chapter 43 Christmas Shenanigans

As fascinating as Nocturne was now that it was the middle of the night and was all but bursting with people, he didn't have time to loiter. Instead, he shook off whoever was tailing him; probably another pick pocket, one of the local watchers guarding the alley from outsiders, or maybe that vampire he'd seen lurking. Indeed he headed over to the roof of The Hung Drawn 'n' Quarters.

He set up his trunk, then paused when he was about to set the wards. He could feel his magic humming under his skin, and he wasn't sure how it would react now it was unbound. He didn't want to blow anything up. He frowned and pulled out a pebble from his bag.

Holding it in his hand, he sat himself down on his trunk and focused on the pebble. Concentrating carefully on his magic, he tried to gently float the pebble with his wand. It rocketed upwards but not as far as he feared it might. He twitched his wand to the left and marvelled at the steady stream of magic he could feel moving from his core into his wand and to the pebble. It was amazing.

His magic seemed both highly sensitive and highly responsive now. It also seemed to be bursting at the seams. It was a little like holding back a flood. A few things Professor Flitwick had said about the flow of magic, back in his first year, now made sense.

He put the pebble away after a little while practising with it and carefully cast his wards. It was challenging to hold the magic back now. It seemed to be fighting to get out now, to run wild. It was hard to control it enough to set the wards safely.

He was panting and sweating when he'd finished, and the wards were sloppier but stronger then they had ever been before. He thought he'd overpowered them a little much and hoped that the proprietor of the Hung Drawn 'n' Quarters wouldn't notice them. He'd been careful so they shouldn't interfere with any of the inn's wards. But it did look like he'd need a lot more practice to get his control and finesse back over his spell casting and not continue to over power things.

He sighed, cursing Dumbledore for all the trouble that man was causing him and climbed down into his trunk. He was eager to keep practising with his magic now it was free. Now he could feel it, he hoped he could end up much better at it than before. But he came to a grinding halt when he spotted the Christmas tree by the fireplace. Dobby and Winky must of set it up while he was ill.

He'd forgotten it was Christmas, and that people would be celebrating. Ordinary people did presents and decorated trees and things. No wonder the street was so busy! Even if Yule had been last week...

Being on a nocturnal schedule was still a little discombobulating, Harry thought.

He should probably get his Christmas gifts finished and posted out then. He'd perfected the protection bracelets now that he was going to give some to his friends. He just had to put the finishing touches on them.

They should protect the wearer from most low and middle-level hexes and jinxes. He had the recycling magic system down pat now so it would shield the wearer from the spell and absorb the spells magic to re-power it. It wasn't foolproof yet though, and Harry still wanted to make it stronger than a weak Protago. He had to admit though, having one, with the magic humming warmly on his wrist, was comforting.

So he wrapped them in parchment and transfigured it into brightly coloured Christmas paper. His magic was still a little out of whack, so the Christmas paper ended up far more garish than he intended. The tiny Christmas images moved a lot faster than he expected, reminding him a bit of Pigwidgin.

But he let it go and handed them off to Dobby and Winky with letters. One for Bill and one for Charlie went through the Gringotts box, and those for Fred, George, Hermione, Luna, Hagrid, as well as the four Slytherins 4th years and his younger Slytherin study group went to Hogwarts with his elves. He added an endnote on Hermione's Christmas Card hoping to hear all about the Yule Ball and sent them off with Dobby and Winky too.

It felt good to give people gifts. But what Harry really wanted to do was practise his magic. Now that he could, and it was unbound, he was itching to use it.

After all, the practice he'd had that year trying to feel his magic, this time it took to no effort to sink into himself until he was surrounded by it. Soon it was all he could sense.

Magic.

Warm and home and safety and life. It was so vibrant, and it burned brightly in his chest, and he let it swell and fill him until his skin tingled with it and it almost felt familiar... For a moment, he caught a flash back to a rag and scrubbing the floors at the Dursley's as a small child. His hands had been tingling like this, like magic...

But then it was gone.

Harry wondered what it meant and if it was a bit of stolen memory. But he hadn't known about magic before he'd got his letter, had he? So why had he thought he felt magic when cleaning way back then?

He pushed the thought away and on a whim opened his eyes, putting his wand gently on the floor in front of him.

"Accio," he commanded, holding out his hand.

Nothing happened.

He frowned but tried again. Feeling the magic in his chest, coaxing it down his arm, as if he was using a wand.

Nothing happened.

"Accio," he said again with feeling, willing the magic into his hand, willing it to wrap around his wand and pull it towards him.

Nothing happened.

He let out a frustrated huff. Very few people did wandless magic. He probably wasn't smart enough or strong enough. He was pretty average, but he had hoped...

"Accio wand!" He said firmly; willing...

Nothing.

"Accio wand!" He tried again channelling the magic, willing it to connect to the magic in his wand, drawing it to his hand. He could almost feel it, in his hands. He stared at the wand, willing it closer.

"Accio," he murmured again.

It twitched.

He let out a whoop!

So he practised. Again and again. He didn't manage Accio completely, but he got closer and closer. Wandless magic was hard. But now he could feel the magic in him, it didn't seem as impossible as all the books said it was. It was just a matter of channelling and willing it. Not that different from conducting it with a wand really...

He did, however, manage a Lumos, and an Alohamora and a levitation spell, eventually. Which was pretty fun and very cool. And it all felt vaguely familiar but he couldn't work out why...

He picked up his wand and started running through spells. Lumos took a while to get control over once more. It was brighter now, blindingly so. It was if now his magic was unbound, it was bursting to be free and to be used. It seemed to gush out of him like water from a broken dame and was hard-pressed to wrestle it under control. Indeed, the more he tried to force it to obey him, the more it seemed likely to set things on fire and explode them. It didn't want to be controlled. It didn't want to be bound, or tamed.

It was just as well that his repair spells were just as overpowered and he was able to fix everything! He practised and practised, but the more he forced it the worse it got. Which led him to sitting down and meditating again; feeling the magic.

Some believed magic was sentient that it was alive. That, made sense to him. So maybe internal magic was sentient too. Perhaps he had to talk to it? Coax it? Reassure it or himself really? For his magic was part of himself, he realised with sudden aching clarity. Maybe it had been chained for so long that it was desperate never to be chained up again...

Like himself really, it was an extension, a part of himself.

Harry sank into his magic and the hours disappeared as he focused on magic and the feeling of wonderfull oneness with it and the freedom of it.

Never again. Never again would they be chained.

When he rose sometime later and cast Lumos again, he could feel the stream of magic he called up at the spell's incantation. He could feel it and direct it and didn't have to fight it to get a bright light, or to force back the flow of magic to dim the light a little. He tried again and easily adjusted the flow of magic to a trickle to get a faint, very soft light. It was almost as if now, he'd reassured it, that they were free, that it was eager to work with him, not against him.

It took a while, but slowly he started to get the hang of it again. Gradually, it came to him, and he and his magic were in sync again. It was exhilarating using magic so freely, and he flicked through his textbooks practising and practising, revelling in the freedom and delight in using magic as much as he liked.

Harry crawled out of his trunk and sat on the roof, looking at the stars that 'afternoon' while he was taking a break. The night sky was cloudy but there were patches of sky that showed stars. He couldn't see as many here with all the lights of the city as he could at Hogwarts.

The alley below him was lit with darkly coloured lights, and eery music was playing. It was still full of people and seemed to get busier as it approached dawn and the end of the alley's working 'day.' It appeared that the alley's 'nightlife' was just as busy as it's regular trading hours though different people were coming out now, and were dressing differently too.

Buildings that had been shut in the earlier hours of the night seemed to be opening up. There were bars and a few clubs, and people moved through the streets looking for things. He spotted working girls, and boys, and vampires stalking people, not all of whom were unwilling. He watched shop and stall owners peddle their wares, and street vendors shouted out their cuisines and deals.

He watched the pickpockets move through the alley, and watched the different people going about their evening. Nocturne really was an exciting place. And he could see it all from up here.

He sat on his trunk for a long time, watching and learning the alley's ways, soaking up the feel of the alley and the noise around him.

This was freedom.

He had another breakthrough as well that night before he went to sleep. He'd spent an hour or so working on his Metamorphmagus skills. He could grow his hair now at will and change it into different colours, though he had only managed natural colours, not anything outlandish. He could coax his eyes to brown and could darken his skin a few shades and grow his nails. Though he couldn't shorten them or his hair, he had to cut them.

When his practice of magic had worn him out, and he'd eaten the dinner that Dobby had made (Harry assumed it was from Hogwarts) he crawled into bed. He'd been planning to read his mother's journals, but he was simply too tired now. So he curled up under his mother's blankets and practised clearing his mind before sleep. He tried sinking into the centre of his mind like Bill had taught him.

He'd always practised it before but hadn't managed to sink into it properly until that moment. This time he managed to fall deep into his magic. It burned bright orange-red in his mind's eye. It was glorious. Warm and alive, and it felt like home, and he never wanted to leave.

He could have been there for a moment or hours, soaking up the warmth and wondering at the feeling of it. But then when he focused properly on clearing his mind, things seemed to shift.

He'd never managed to find the centre of his mind before. The blocks on his magic, his mind magic, had always got in the way. But his mind felt different now, slightly alien but familiar too. It was odd and unsettling. There were blank patches now, holes that weren't there before. Things were more evident now, and he could almost sense the impressions of the bindings that used to be there, forcing him into something he wasn't. He could sense the scaring that the old goat's bindings had left behind and the bruises the compulsions had left on his instincts.

Just as he was about to drift off, he felt something shift again, and before he realised it, he'd sunk deeper into his magic, his mind.

It was both like sinking deeper into himself and yet he just knew, somehow, that while his magic was centred in his lower chest and stomach, the mind was centred in his head.

He'd never really understood until now what the books had meant by that. But now he could feel it, now he could feel himself, all of him; what the books said made total sense. Of course his magic was centred in his solar plexus, while the mind was in his crown. Now he can feel it, he understood.

It was dark, cool and calm. The scars literally a vivid angry red in his minds eye. And when he lightly touched the purple green bruised patches, he could feel the echo of 'hate Slytherin,' and 'trust Dumbledore.' They echoed of what was once an instinct, but was no more. They ached and were proof that it happened, but held no power now. And he slowly one by one, pushed magic into each mental bruise until it ached less and the colour faded and shrank leaving a faint mark that he could hardly feel.

It was exhausting, but when he finished healing each and every one, he felt steadier, less confused. And when he thought of Slytherin house, he didn't feel much of anything at all. Where before there was always that hint of distrust and dislike, now he just thought of his study group that he liked, his peers that he liked, and how much he didn't like Malfoy.

He then reached out to touch one of the wisps of colour floating around the wide dark space. He saw a flash of Halloween and a troll. He let go with a gasp. Memories. He and Bill hadn't discussed what it would be like once he got to the centre of his mind, as he'd never come close, but the book had. They'd said it may be like this.

He'd have to shape it next, he thought. Shape his mind's centre, make it a place, a defendable sanctuary and sort his memories. He shuddered at the thought of some of the more painful ones, wondering distantly if maybe he'd be able to find the Obliviated ones.

He fell asleep looking at the different colours, wondering what the eery white ones were.

It was early in the Nocturne morning when he climbed out of the trunk for his run. It was still little odd waking up during the Nocturne morning and seeing the stars out and knowing that while it was considered morning in nocturne, it was night time in muggle London. He did like it though.

It was different going for a run in the streets and alleyways, but it was an excellent way to explore. And he'd felt twitchy after spending so much time sleeping or lying down in the trunk. It was good to go for a run and get his body moving.

When he returned to the roof top after his shower, the moon was rising over the roofs of London. It was beautiful. It was different from watching the sunset from the trees of the forbidden forest, but beautiful all the same. Harry dismantled his wards, shrank his trunk and packed it into his bag. It was almost time for the alley to wake again, and he was starting to get wary.

He automatically pulled up the hood of his cloak but paused. He currently had long reddish-brown hair, and brown eyes. And he had managed to move his scar behind his right ear. No-one would recognise him...

Grinning, he climbed down the side of the building, quickly scaling the drainpipe, without being noticed and slipped into the Hung Drawn 'n' Quarters. It was Christmas Eve in London. Not that it really carried though to the alley, as nearly everyone celebrated Yule instead. Which was strangely liberating for Harry.

He decided that he would treat himself to breakfast. He was here, and free and not stuck at Hogwarts at the Yule Ball. The Quibbler would be out on Sunday and would have all sorts of surprises for the world. That was all worth celebrating. He hoped Hermione was having a good time. He hoped she wasn't in trouble because he wasn't there.

Bill was right. The Hung Drawn 'n' Quarters was as cheap as it was dirty. But not nearly as bad as Harry had expected. The plates, cutlery and tables were clean as were the glassware. It was just the floors, walls and ceilings that were filthy, and the windows. It looked as if it was once horribly dirty but had recently had a half-finished attempt to clean itself up.

He used one of his last 2 Galleons to get himself a hot breakfast and watched as the patrons trickled downstairs for food and out into the waking street.

It was loud by the time he was finished and had read another few chapters of the book on The Darke, with the cover charmed hidden. The book was interesting, but the inn was so loud it was setting off all his instincts. All the old survival instincts that are now freshly freed from Dumbledore's suppressive magic. He tried to focus on his book and used it as an exercise in control...

But it was hard.

He sat in a back corner and carefully kept his hair from changing and his mage senses from overwhelming him. Instead, he used the feel of his own magic to ground himself and kept his mind clear; to stop the emotions he could sense from overwhelming him. He controlled the urge to run, to hide, to not be seen. He was safe here in his anonymity.

It was hard, but he managed slowly to keep himself from being overwhelmed as he sipped a butterbeer and ate a sticky toffee pudding. He was free now. He could have toffee pudding with his breakfast if he wanted. No-one could control him now.

Things seemed to slowly slip into place. It helped that the food was delicious, despite being cheap. He listened to the chatter for a while and worked out that the proprietor, Madame Morbid had recently bought the business off a bloke called Dung. This Dung bloke had nearly run the place to the ground and had to sell it to stop himself from being declared bankrupt by the Goblins. Apparently, Morbid was working on fixing it up a bit.

He didn't jump when a tall curvy lady in black approached him. He'd sensed her coming, despite how many people were in the room. He was pretty sure she was Madame Morbid, but he wasn't sure and just hoped he wasn't about to get yelled at.

She had long grey hair and gothic makeup on. She was irritated and curious, and her magic crackled under her skin. Keeping one hand carefully on his wand, he nodded at her politely.

It did nothing to remove her scowl.

"You're squatting on my roof," she said in a surprisingly deep, gruff voice.

He blinked. "Well met Ma'am," he said formally.

"Your squatting on my roof," she repeated, ignoring the greeting, "my inn not good enough for you, boy?"

"Don't call me boy," he snapped coldly, fingering the knife he had hidden in his hip pocket. He carried it everywhere now. Especially since he'd almost had to use it that morning on his run. It was a regular risk in Nocturne when he was still seen as an outsider and the unbinding had left him jumpy.

"It's got nothing to do with the quality of your inn ma'am and everything to do with not being able to afford it. Unless you're willing to trade work for board, I can't pay you. So I picked an empty roof. It's not harming anyone, its not a crime," he snapped.

She narrowed her eerily, pail blue eyes at him, "how long are you here for?"

"I'm leaving the second of Jan," Harry said.

"Alright kid," she said, looking at him appraisingly, "I'll give you a room, and I'll even feed you," she added her eyes racking over his skinny frame.

Harry narrowed his own eyes, "what's the catch?"

"You get this place clean." She said gesturing with a long red nail around the bar.

"Alright," Harry said after casting another eye about the place, "I can do that. I'm good at cleaning."

"Good," she said after raising a doubtful eyebrow. "Merry Meet and Welcome to The Hung Drawn 'n' Quarters Inn. I'm Madame Morbid." She said, finally offering a proper cheery greeting.

"Merry Meet Ma'am," he said carefully, "I'm Hadrian."

She showed him up to a small attic room that looked like it had once been part of a set of servants quarters. It had a set of oddly steep, narrow stairs going down to the cellar and kitchens. It was dusty, but she cleared it up with a flick of her wand and opened the windows. The window was small but lead out onto to the roofs edge and the dark, bustling street.

Harry didn't unpack but did set his trunk up at the end of the bed and warded it to the high heavens before he went back downstairs. He was armed with his wand, his box of Bi-carb soda, as well as rags, brushes, and shrunken mops all in a bucket. He'd asked Dobby and Winky to liberate them for him from his cupboard at Hogwarts.

He found Madame Morbid in the kitchen, and she showed him the storeroom with the magical cleaning products and set him to work. He started on the outside. If the business was known for being rundown and dirty, cleaning the outside would help people realise it had turned over a new leaf.

He set to work on the windows first. Scrubbing years of caked-on crime within an inch of its life with bicarb soda, the vinegar, lemon and a bunch of scrubbing brushes and rags. Dobby and Winky joined in eagerly. Though Harry insisted they didn't have to. They had argued that it had been a while since they'd had the pleasure of giving something really dirty a good scrub. If he was really very worried, he should consider the extra cleaning a Christmas bonus, if it made him feel better about it. He'd just laughed and thanked them for their help.

He ended up using his Firebolt to help him get the higher windows that he couldn't reach. It must be a rather comical sight. Harry was perched on the handle of his broom washing windows with the help of Dobby and Winky who were standing with a sticking charm, on the tail of the broom.

They got the windows done and moved on to giving the walls a good scrub. They discovered that the paint over the outer stonework of the building was not brown but cream. And the building had an old English style with highlights of dark wood that gleamed after Harry scrubbed and polished them.

It took them the better part of the evening, but they managed. And by the time they were done, Harry was more than ready for lunch. Morbid went outside to inspect, passing Harry a big bowl of stew and bread on her way out. Harry went to share it with Dobby and Winky only to find they'd disappeared. So he set about devouring his stew alone instead. Morbid came back in with a stunned expression on her face and demanded, "how'd you do that? I didn't think they were white!"

"Elbow grease," Harry said bluntly.

"No magic?" She asked, clearly surprised.

"Not really. Not much. Just good old fashioned elbow grease." Harry said, looking up, "It's too old to be cleaned with magic. Magic is good to help it along, but this old stuff needs to be truly scrubbed off before you can banish the muck."

He'd thought she'd looked impressed as she left him to his meal. He was just eating the last of his bread when Winky popped in.

"Winky? You two didn't stay for lunch." Harry said a bit disappointed.

"We is not needing three meals a day like wizards is," she said, wringing her hands together.

"We was delivering yous Christmas presents to yous friends sir, and be picking yous up, for tomorrow morning, sir." She kept wringing her hands together.

"Don't hurt yourself," he chided, then, "what's up Winky?"

"Ms Grangy is back from the ball, young master Harry sir, but she is very upset, sir. She be crying, sir" the elf said.

"What? Is she okay? What happened?" Harry asked.

"The ball sir. Young Weazey be doing something Dobby be's thinking. Winky be getting her hot chocolate sir, and hot blankets sir. Winky be looking after your Grangy for you sir."

"Yous Grangy says she'll be writing in the morning, sir, after she be gone home," Dobby said, popping in suddenly, tugging on his ear for a moment before catching Harry's disapproving look and left his poor ear alone.

Harry slumped, "bugger. I was hoping she'd have fun. She was really looking forward to it. I have her address, I can probably pickpocket a bus fair in Muggle London..." He mused, "I want to make sure she's okay."

"I'll wait for her letter, so I know she's up then I'll head over. Will you let her know for me?" He asked them.

Dobby nodded and popped away to let her know, and Harry took his dishes into the kitchen and got back to work.

Harry, along with Winky and Dobby, then worked their way through the unoccupied bedrooms and the hallways. They managed to shift centuries of grime from the floors and get the wooden walls shiny again. They developed a system. Dobby would pour on more liquid and a bit of magic into the dirty surfaces, Harry scrubbed furiously, and Winky then banished the loosened dirt and muck.

It was rather relaxing. Doing the mindless physical work also gave him a chance to sort his head out. And he'd really needed the time in his head. He needed to figure out how he felt about things, now, and what he'd been missing. He felt more himself by the end and found himself starting to remember how, as a child, he had often pushed magic down into his hands when he cleaned to help move the dirt along a bit. He wondered when he'd forgot that?

Years of cleaning and scrubbing at the Dursley's had left Harry a comprehensive and efficient cleaner. In no time at all the three of them had managed to do the bathrooms, hallways and unoccupied rooms. The rooms themselves were pretty clean already it was just mopping, dusting and cleaning the surfaces.

But how on earth had he used magic to help him clean as a child? He'd never heard of magic until he got his letter... He'd not even had an inkling. So why was pushing magic into his hands, and willing the dirt to shift, so instinctual? So familiar.

Instead of going to his room to sleep after finishing the upstairs, Harry got to work on the downstairs cleaning. He was on a roll, and too worried about Hermione to sleep. He was itching to know what had happened. He knew if he tried to sleep now, he'd just stay awake or have nightmares. Better to keep busy.

Now the kitchen was quiet, he started there. The kitchen was mostly clean already, it was the first thing Morbid had done when she took over the place. But there was still a floor to scrub, tiles and grounding to clean, and a fireplace and floo to make sparkle.

The dining room was next, and Harry, Dobby and Winky set about scrubbing the insides of the windows which were just as filthy as the outsides had been.

Next, there were the walls and ceiling. Again the Firebolt was rather useful for getting to the high out of reach places. Cleaning off all the grime revealed bluestone, and shiny wooden walls as well as worn redwood floors. The floor was perhaps the worst of all. Harry assumed that if it was anything like the upstairs floors, it would be hardwood. But with the sheer amount of grime in it, potion stains and fossilised spilt food... He wasn't sure.

Despite hating cleaning for his aunt, it was really nice to see appreciation in Morbid's eyes for his hard work, when he finally got the floors clean.

"You don't need to work all the time kid, you can spread it out, expected it to take you the whole week." She said, coming over around midday, "don't forget to sleep, kid."

Harry nodded, but said, "don't sleep much, figured I'd make the most of the place being quiet. I'm almost done washing the floor, then it can be re-polished."

She nodded and left him to it. He managed to finish most of the floor in the late hours of the muggle morning. He was exhausted, sweaty and aching and thought he may now be able to sleep.

He startled and jumped a mile when Winky popped away. He blinked and looked at Dobby, who just said, "Ms Grangy called."

Winky reappeared a moment later with a letter. The paper was slightly rumpled in one corner, and there were a few tear spots on it.

"Harry,

Dobby said you'd come to visit but don't worry about it, I'm fine. I went home early this morning on the Knight Bus. I started writing this on the bus so please ignore any wobbly handwriting. This thing is a death trap!

I know you're worried about how it went, but I'm fine. McGonagall was furious that you left. She confronted me when I got back the morning of the ball. I didn't tell her anything. But apparently, they spent the first week looking for you! I don't know where you hid, but it was a good spot. They even questioned your aunt, I heard. I suspect you'll be in for a world of trouble when we get back. I tried to explain that your aunt needed you and quoted the rules and the charter, but they didn't listen. (The charter is a really interesting read by the way! But has no order or index at all! It's very frustrating!)

Anyway, they insisted you'd let the school down. I don't know what they're thinking anymore.

Now the ball. The ball was horrible. No that's not quite right. The ball itself was beautiful. After, was horrible.

Luna and I got dressed together in the RoR with a few of the Slytherin girls. They were really nice! And it was fun having some girls to be girly with for a moment. I felt like a princess. The looks on everyone's faces when I came down the staircase looking like a someone, instead of a nobody-book-worm. It was very satisfying indeed. It shut Ron right up!

You'll never guess what he did the other day. I heard, he yelled across the great hall for Delecoure, the French champion, to go to the ball with him. He then ran off to sulk! It would have been funny if he wasn't such a prick afterwards. When I got back to school the day before the ball, he demanded I go with him, As I was a girl. I may have snapped back a little, along the lines of, 'oh well done Ronald, yes I am a girl.'

Upon assuring me, he'd always known that I was a girl, he insisted I go with him. He had the gall to not believe me when I said I already had a date. He thought I was lying to cover my 'embarrassment that no-one wanted to go with me.' The prick didn't believe me when I said I had one! The twerp.

But I went with Victor (Krum). He was dressed very smartly, Harry. We had a lovely intellectually stimulating conversation about the differences between our countries and our schools.

I do like our conversations a lot, Harry, but, it's nice being able to have a constructive discussion with someone other than you on occasion.

I admit it was also nice to feel like a girl for a change, to feel beautiful. Victor and I danced together quite a lot. It was a lot of fun. He's very kind and rather charming. A true gentleman, you'll be pleased to hear.

Until Ron screwed it up!

We had a row.

Ron had been sulking the whole time about not having a date. (Not that he would have danced with one anyway!) He ended up getting into a row with me and drawing Victor into it. He called me a traitor to Hogwarts and to Gryffindor!

I've already been un-housed, that didn't even make sense!

He said I was fraternising with the enemy, handing the enemy our secrets. Which is precisely what Karkaroff warned Victor against! Honestly, this is a tournament to foster international friendships and relationships!

Victor ended up giving Ron a black eye, defending my honour. And Ron then got him with his slug hex.

They were separated. But Ron was still a git to both of us. He got a week of detention and Victor is confined to the ship for the rest of the break. It was horrible, Harry. The night had been going so well, and Ron had to spoil it, and somehow made me feel like it was all my fault.

It wasn't!

I miss you, especially our morning runs. I hope things are going well for you. I went for a run this morning after I got home. It wasn't the same by myself. Mum and Dad had wanted me back so we could spend Christmas together, but I got home, and they were gone! They're dental surgeons. They got called in for emergency surgery this morning according to the note on the fridge. They said something about a crash and having to sew someone's jaw back together.

Which sucks for the guy who's hurt, I hope he feels better soon. But seriously?! They said they wanted me back and I went to all the trouble and now they are not here! On Christmas!

I'm going to call their receptionist tomorrow to see how much time they have actually taken off to spend with me these holidays. Because at this rate I'm going to be here all alone. Which I would have preferred to do at Hogwarts, where there is a library, and magic!

Plus my cooking skills are not that great, you may have to teach me at some point so we don't starve when we're both out of school.

I'm thinking of staying in the Leaky Cauldron for a few days before we go back to school. We could talk then if you want. Are you staying in the alley?

Hermione."


	44. Chapter 44 Yule Gifts

Harry's heart sank when he read the letter. He really wanted Hermione to have a good time at the Yule Ball. She'd deserved it. He was also really irritated at the staff of Hogwarts for being so unreasonable.

"Winky," he called softly.

The little elf popped in, "little master?" She asked curiously

"I'm not little," he corrected but then asked, "Can you give Hermione a message for me?"

She nodded.

"Can you tell her, I'm safe in Nocturne, and the bindings are off. It worked. If she wants me to come over so she can have a friendly ear, and some company, I can. I'm more than happy to."

Winky repeated the message back to him and then popped away.

Harry let out a sigh of relief and went to work, finishing cleaning the kitchen.

He couldn't really focus on the task any more. He was tired now, ready to sleep for the day, but also anxious about Hermione. He didn't like seeing her so upset.

Eventually he put his cleaning supplies away, trudged quietly up to his room and warded it, before climbing down into his trunk. He felt safer behind two layers of wards and had an proximity-alert ward on the door. He didn't feel safe sleeping outside of heavy wards anymore. Not with a mad-man out to get him, and everyone else keen to cheer him on. Not in a new place with strange people.

Yawning, Harry headed over to have a shower, looking forward to the hot water on his aches.

He startled slightly when he stepped out of the bathroom and spotted gifts under the small tree.

Even after three years of Hogwarts Christmases, it still felt odd to participate in and to receive gifts. He was pretty tired but couldn't resist grabbing a couple to take over to his bed. He crawled under the blankets before he opened any.

Mrs Weasley had knitted him a green jumper with a dragon on it (possibly a Hungarian Horntail) and a large number of mince pies. He loved her mince pies. They were under a preserving charm, and were still hot, fresh out of the oven. He bit down into one and hummed as he enjoyed the spicy sweetness.

They wouldn't last very long.

Fred and George had given him a bulging bag of Dungbombs, that Harry was seriously considering putting in Dumbledores office, or coaxing Dobby to do for him. Or... maybe he could give them to Peeves...

Perhaps he could use the Dungbombs to bargain with Peeves to create chaos for Dumbledore and the Gryffindors... Now that was a thought, he hummed biting into another Mince Pie.

Hermione had sent him a Homework planner. Every time he opened a page it said things like 'do it today, or later you'll pay' and 'dotted your I's and crossed your T's now you can do whatever you please.' He grinned at it. It was a very Hermione gift. But it was also a handy one. It had space for his schedule and all his assignments and even had space for him to plan out his day in great detail. He was rather relieved to get it. He had been admiring her neatly organised planner for a while now. His own ratty notebook that he'd been using to schedule was both almost full and falling apart. This would be brilliant.

The last package he opened before he slept was from Dobby and Winky. Dobby seemed to have given him a pair of mismatched socks that appeared to be hand-knitted. One was red with broomsticks, and the other was green with Snitches. While the colours were a bit garish, he was touched that the elf had knitted them just for him. Winky had given him a nice matching pair of sensible black socks. He smiled. He was suddenly very glad he'd thought to make protection bracelets for both the house-elves.

He got up and hurried over to his desk and pulled out two wrapped packages, "Winky, Dobby?" He called softly.

"Thanks for the socks!" He said when they popped in.

He pulled one of Dobby's socks on and one of Winky's, causing Dobby's eyes to leak with happiness.

"It's really nice having my own socks you two! I really appreciate it," Winky's eyes welled too and Dobby said, "Dobby is pleased you is liking them, sir,"

Harry handed them both a package.

"I made these for you. I don't know if it will do strange things with your elf magic, but it shouldn't," Harry said, hoping they'd like them. He caught a teary but pleased expression on Winky's face before she popped away, embarrassed. Dobby burst into happy, hysterical tears and hugged Harry's knees.

Harry woke early the next evening and went for a run through the alley. Nocturne Alley was an endlessly fascinating place he thought as he ran down the main street, and a lot bigger than Harry had initially thought. It was made up of lots of little lanes and alleyways that all connected back to the bigger central alley.

This main street was called Nocturne Proper by the locals and broke off from Diagon and spiralled wide, then back into the centre of Nocturne. Despite being dark, creeping, old and gothic, as if it should be drab and dreary, it was full of life; the bustling heart of the Nocturne Alley district.

The main Alley seemed to house a lot of the main shops, cafe's and deli's, as well as being where many Pubs and Inns were. A lot of the shops had apartments on top of them, Harry noted, as he ran past. Though not all of them seemed to be used as apartments.

#7a Nocturne Proper was Markus Scarr's Skin-wear. They sold makeup, charms and glamours on the bottom floor of #7. In the apartment above it, #7b, however, was 'Inkredible Indelible Tattoos & Scarification.' Then in the attic of that same building, #7c was Little Kraken Piercing. Of course, not all shops had a second (or even third) shop above them, some were indeed just apartments that the shop owners lived in.

Nocturne Proper also had apartments, a small general healers office, a small hospital, the bank, a legal office and even a small school. The street spiralled around the outside of Greater Nocturne, before circling in to meet all the other alleys at the centre of the community. In the middle, where all the lanes met, was a park and a town square. Both seemed to be used as a meeting place, a monthly market, and where all the festivals were held.

Kids were running around the alley already, chasing each other, hitting each other with sticks, throwing things around and wrestling with each other. Some were playing a game of pickup quidditch with some engorgio-ed stones and rather old and wobbly looking brooms that Harry thought some of which might be made themselves. It was clear that some of the kids were street kids, and some had homes and parents living and working in the alley.

There were several more significant side alley's branching off Nocturne.

Reverse Alley was where many of the vampires lived. This was where many of the shops catering to vampires sat, such as, 'Broken Rose Bloodletting - buyers and sellers welcome' and 'Tortured Tornequet - Fang Cosmetics.' Harry had to avoid a lurking vampire who had tried to proposition him last time he'd run past. Most of the denizens of the alley still tried to make trouble for 'the newbie,' but could be dissuaded with either a well-paced threat (promise), a good hexing or if need be, his knife.

The first time, he'd used spells and the threat of his knife to get the vampire to leave him alone. The second time, he'd used his knife on the vampire. The third time, he sensed the vampire coming. He was ready, with the threat that the basilisk venom still flowing through Harry's veins would really not being very good for the vampire's constitution.

That had stopped the vampire cold. He gave Harry an appraising look, and Harry got the impression that he'd just passed a test. Word then spread though the Alley that Hadrian Lilyson, from the Hung Drawn 'n' Quarters was off-limits. He'd not had trouble in Reverse Alley since. Harry was coldly proud of that.

Horizontal Alley was the home to quite a large werewolf population. It had shops and markets explicitly catering to the werewolf culture. And somehow it surprised Harry that werewolves had a culture and community. Professor Lupin was the only werewolf he'd ever met, and he certainly had not given any indication that there was a werewolf culture.

Hermione would be fascinated, he thought! Most of the names in that alley, funnily enough, were somehow wolf-related. There was 'Romulus & Remus Tavern' for example, 'Foalin Flora & Forna' that sold pets and animal-friendly house plants as well as 'Canis Familiaris' which sold pets as well. Personally, Harry thought that the last one was a rather poor attempt to cross the word familiar with the Latin name for a dog.

Vertical Alley housed most of the goblins and branched off from Nocturne Proper next to Gringotts. Despite the Ministry prohibiting Goblins from owning land or living anywhere except Gringotts, which was considered sovereign Goblin territory, Vertical Alley housed a lot of goblins. Few Nocturne denizens seemed to care for many of the prejudiced Ministry laws. Or any of them really.

Snaggletooth Alley was much seedier than Nocturne Proper. The people were much poorer, Harry noted, with a sharp eye. And there were more street kids and homeless people living there than some of the others. Which would also mean that there was probably more thieves and unsavoury types lurking there as well.

So far every time he'd run down Snaggletooth, someone had either tried to pick his pocket, mug him or proposition him, in a completely different way from in Reverse Alley. That didn't mean he didn't like the place. He could look after himself, however, but it did keep him on his toes and kept his instincts sharp. It was hard to go down Snaggeltooth without being pickpocketed if you were not a local. All the denizens of the alley knew to ward their belongings or food and shop wears from light-fingered thieves.

Some of the shops in Snaggletooth, however, were definitely not legal even with their borderline legal shop fronts. 'Alchemy Black,' for example, actually did most of its business selling the less legal potions ingredients such as human blood, bones, hair and fingernails. They also sold not so legal creature parts from endangered species or species that were prohibited from being sold or bred in England.

And Creeping Corner Coffinry didn't actually sell coffins at all. While it displayed coffins, in the window and on the main shop floor, it actually sold things catering to the old ways, the Darke and ritual supplies out of the back room. All of which were illegal. Most of which Harry had slowly learnt from listening to the locals in Madam Morbids.

It was fascinating, really. Especially as a lot of the bars and nightclubs of Nocturne were housed on Snaggletooth and Harry would later realise that Snaggletooth Alley was where all the brothels and clubs of Nocturne were.

The Hung Drawn 'n' Quarters was at the end of Snaggletooth where it joined on to the end of Hookturn Alley.

Hookturn Alley housed the other creatures and ran through Vertical Alley, Horizontal Alley and Reverse Alley and bled into to Snaggletooth where it then joined the end of Nocturne Proper.

Hookturn made up a large part of Nocturne's creature district and housed a lot of hags, part creatures and had a strong creature culture. Like Horizontal, it housed creature specific food places, markets, shops and clubs. It was Hookturn Alley that ran the farmers craft market in the park on every second Sunday.

After showering in his trunk, Harry set about opening the rest of his Christmas presents before breakfast.

One of the first things Harry noticed was that Ron had not given him anything. Which was expected, but stark proof of the end of his first-ever friendship. And he was irritated that it still hurt.

Hagrid had given him a box of sweets with Bertie Botts, many Chocolate Frogs as well as Fizzing Whizbees, and Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. Harry grinned at this. His friend knew how much he loved sweets, especially chocolate frogs.

His younger Slytherin study group had gotten together to give him a massive block of Honey Dukes Finest milk chocolate. It tasted divine. His study group with the Slytherin fourth years had put in together to provide a set of textbooks. The textbooks for the WEA subjects. They were useful books, and Harry had been eyeing them for a while. But they were hard to get if you weren't a pureblood. His mother's library also hadn't had them. She'd had notes on some of them, but not the textbooks themselves. Another sign of all the prejudice still rife in the wizarding world, he thought sadly.

Neville had gotten him a book on the 'Flora & Fauna of the UK Waterways.' He'd also added a note in the front cover saying that it was a really interesting read and would come in handy for their trip into the lake, and the 'you-know-what'. Harry snorted at his friends attempt at subtlety. The book even had a section on the Hogwarts lake and the history of the mer-colony down there. Neville was right, it would be useful for the second task.

Luna had given him a subscription to The Quibbler and an early copy of the December issue, which was packed with all sorts of brilliant cauldron stirring articles. Her card also told him that their Dragon article had been sold to be published in other publications: Beasts Quarterly, Dragons Monthly and two other dragon-related publications throughout Britain and Ireland as well as a Romanian Magazine called 'Dragons of Today.' Luna's father was very excited and had been hoping that would draw more International readers to The Quibbler.

The December issue had the somewhat sensationalist title of, "Death Eaters at the world cup - is You-Know-Who coming back?" It was splashed across the front cover in front of an artists impression of a Crumple Horned Snorkack. There was also a picture of Moaning Myrtle titled 'Trouble's Buried at Hogwarts!' as well as another dragon photo, this one with an adorably vicious-looking hatchling, as well as photo of a young Sirius Black captioned, 'Black Innocent!'

The Quibbler, as always, was an exciting read. The article Harry and Luna written about the Hogwart's houses (after Harry had been un-housed) was published and went into great detail on the animosity between Slytherin and Gryffindor. It also looked at notable 'good,' and 'bad,' wizards from each house and went on to look at the rumours about Harry almost being a Slytherin.

Now that the cat was out of the bag, and Gryffindor had kicked him out, Harry had no regrets in giving Luna an interview about his sorting and why he ended up in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin like the hat had wanted.

It turned out that he wasn't the only student that had asked not to go somewhere, or to go into a particular house. Luna had interviewed a range of past, and present students about their sorting. Some were housed straight away. Some, such as Professor McGonagall, was almost sorted into Ravenclaw. Professor Flitwick was also nearly a Slytherin; up until he'd started badgering the hat about the founders and how the hat had been made.

There was an article on the dragons from the first task, following up the previous issue's. Luna's father had been in contact with the Romanian reserve, where they'd come from. Despite the trauma of the first task, all four dragons and their hatchlings were going well. This article included lots of rather adorable photos of then hatchlings, and their proud mother's.

There was a second article on the dragons too, looking at the revolutionary way the Romanian reserve was testing out a new method of working with the dragons. Treating them like people, not beasts. It mentioned Harry doing some work with them using Parseltongue after the task. The dragons had asked to be spoken to, and not assumed to be mindless, stupid beasts.

Apparently, it was working quite well, though there were some hiccups, as no-one at the reserve currently spoke the dragon's language. The whole thing made Harry grin, especially when it showed the interview Charlie had done with Luna's father about how knowing the dragons could understand them, if not speak back, had made things run so much smoother when working with the wild animals.

The Quibbler then moved from Dragons to Centaurs. Harry has also helped Luna, with input from Elda Magorian and Firenze write up an article on the Forbidden Forest. They had put a piece together to try and lessen people's ignorance in regards to Centaurs and to try to keep people out of their forest. They'd explained a little of Centaur ways and customs, with the permission of Elda Magorian, and had compiled a list of 'do's and don'ts,' along with the why's behind each. It was an exceptional article that Harry hoped would lessen some of the prejudices and keep people out of the forest. It wasn't theirs, and they kept damaging it.

The Quibbler then moved on to an article discussing how to care for local woodlands. Again it featured a few of the centaurs Harry had introduced Luna too. The reticent beings had been remarkably forthcoming with Luna, who seemed to effortlessly understand and translate all their talk about stars into something the rest of the world could easily understand.

She had interviewed them at length for that month's edition, and Harry had helped her get their permission to publish it to try and get the centaurs better treatment. They really just wanted to be left alone, and have their forest left alone too. But in the end, they agreed that lessening human ignorance may be wise.

Luna's next artical looked at how safe Hogwarts really was. She had taken what Harry had told her about his years at Hogwarts and had then gone on to interview others. She had quotes from current students, as well as past students and staff. It described several more unsafe things and other incidents with DADA teachers before Harry's time. She'd even included an interview with 'Moaning,' Myrtle Warren the victim of the basilisk the first time the Chamber of Secrets was opened. The article was not very complimentary of Dumbledore, Harry was pleased to see, and would hopefully keep him busy enough that he wouldn't bother Harry.

Harry was really excited to see the article on Sirius Black and what had really happened that night. Luna had managed to coax some old photos off Professor Lupin and had interviewed Sirius himself, by owl. She had extracted photographs from a copy Sirius' memory, though how she'd done it, Harry wasn't too sure.

The article on Sirius poked a lot of fingers at both Dumbledore and the Ministry. Especially over the miscarriage of justice over Sirius being imprisoned without a trial. Harry was hoping that it would bring justice for Sirius. He may not be happy with the man at the moment, but he deserved justice. Even if Harry wasn't sure, he wanted to live with the man anymore.

No. Living with Sirius would just mean being under Dumbledore's thumb.

The article innocently implied that Dumbledore didn't act as he should as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. But not overtly. It was only there if you read between the lines, so it can be seen as an accident and harmless. Hopefully, it wouldn't get Harry in trouble with Dumbledore. Or Luna.

They had also published Harry's apology letter, explaining his lack of etiquette and manners. On one hand he was hesitant, as it could bring potential consequences, but then, he had already told McGonagall he was learning etiquette from a book, so it wasn't really revealing anything new.

His letter conveyed a sincere and very formal apology for his ignorance, as well as an apology to anyone that he may have unintentionally, snubbed, offended, or been rude to while he was ignorant.

He and Luna had then added in a persuasive piece about the need to bring in more support for muggleborn and raised children like him who had no introduction and no idea of the culture they didn't know they were ignorant of. It went on to suggest classes and a proper orientation short course before starting school.

While the article didn't outright say it, it implied, for those that looked, that Harry had had no introduction and had been purposefully left very ignorant. Hopeful that would create a bit of hot-water for the Dumbledore.

The last article was the cover featured, which Luna had helped her father with. It looked at the possible survival of Voldemort. The report looked first at all evidence that pointed towards Voldemort not really being dead. This ranged from accounts of that night, rumours of him being immortal, the statements given by Dumbledore after his defeat, and his reappearance at Hogwarts in Harry's first year and second year.

It also, in true Quibbler style, added in some truly bizarre-sounding pieces of evidence to throw people off. For example, there as an interview with Professor Trelawny, who had been seeing Grims in her tea leaves again and snake eye'd babies that were missing their noses. She'd been seeing death omens everywhere all year.

Though, having heard the prophecy last year, and having spoken to the centaurs, Harry wondered if maybe Trelawney was almost onto something. Most divination didn't make sense until afterwards anyway.

Harry brushed the thought aside and kept reading. The article then moved onto look at what Voldemort could be up to now. It started with Bertha Jorkins. Luna had passed on the information Harry had given her about Voldemort and Jorkins to her father, Xenophilius. He'd had done some digging into her travel route and had interviewed a few colleagues.

It didn't outright say that she'd been taken by Voldemort or killed, as Harry had no proof other than his vision, but it had alluded to it being a strong possibility. Especially as her last known location was also Voldemort's last known location: Albania.

And really it had stated, why wasn't anyone looking for her?

It then went and looked again at the Death Eaters and several other odd things occurring at the moment. Strange things such as; the dark mark at the world cup, the gradual budget cuts to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement over the last few years and Harry being entered in the Triwizard tournament. Jorkins would have known about the tournament. If she ran afoul of Voldemort, she could have told him, whether willingly or not. Was he behind Harry's forced entry? If so, what did he want? The report even looked at the rumour floating around about Death Eater sightings and the escape of Peter Pettigrew. Could it be that You-know-who was trying to make a comeback? Was Cornelius Fudge secretly working to bring the Dark Lord back?

Harry grinned and scribbled a quick, 'thank you that was brilliant,' letter to Luna, before making 2 copies of the article on Sirius.

One he would send to Sirius, and the other, after a moment's hesitation, he'd send to Lupin. Now he didn't have the mail ward up, it was possible Lupin would actually write back this time. Maybe that was why he didn't reply the first time, or ever write to him before? To be sure, Harry added a few defence-related questions and a note about how he'd been having issues with his mail and hadn't received his last reply. That should clear up whether Lupin had written back or not.

Harry's last gift was from Sirius. Sirius gave him a handy penknife that would unlock any lock and untie any knot. Harry looked at it appraisingly. That would definitely come in handy. It was a brilliant gift.

He looked a the ground feeling ashamed and guilty. He had, of course, sent Sirius something for Christmas. Back at Hogwarts, he'd persuaded the house-elves to let him make a plum pudding and had sent it to Sirius. Who knows what the man was eating while on the run?

But the fact that Sirius had given him something so handy, that he cared and had given Harry anything at all, made Harry feel enormously guilty for being unhappy with the man. No matter how justified Harry was in being unhappy with his betrayal, Harry now felt rather guilty. He sighed.

He wanted so badly for his godfather to be everything he needed and wanted. But Sirius wasn't. He was in Dumbledores pocket. Maybe one day. But this meant that perhaps Sirius wasn't a complete right-off...

He sighed and took out paper and quill to write proper thank you notes.


	45. Chapter 45 Bill & Charlie

Harry ate breakfast in the kitchen early that evening when the kitchen staff were firing up the grills for the day. He'd seen them around and had been introduced but hadn't really had a chance to get to know them yet. Harry liked knowing who he was taking food from. Even if he did have complete faith in his detection charms, which he now used religiously before he ate or drank anything.

The head chef, Furloff, was a huge man. Intimidating looking but rather nice and had a darkly funny sense of humour. His partner in crime, Birdie, was a tiny pixy of a girl that was silent and grumpy despite looking so sweet. They looked at him suspiciously at first, but Harry was used to that. He was wary and suspicious too. But slowly they warmed-up and he realised that they were both brilliant.

After breakfast, Harry loitered in the shadows near the White Wyvern waiting for Bill. He sensed Bill coming before he saw him.

Since his magic had been unbound, everything was heightened. The alley was saturated with magic, alive and 'loud.' It came across as wild, darke and old. It was all intense and unfamiliar. Too much for Harry to be able to make much sense of. But he mostly managed to distinguish it into two categories; threat and not-yet-a-threat. It was stronger now, than it ever was before. If Harry hadn't already believed magic to be alive and sentient before, he certainly would have now.

And that was just the magic.

Now his mind was unbound as well, everyone's emotions were a bit louder, a bit clearer. Before he had to concentrate, had to read peoples faces and bodies. Now he just looked at them and knew. Like what happened with Bill in Gringotts...

The world was louder now than it had ever been. It hadn't settled yet. He hadn't gotten used to it yet, gotten it under control yet. He consciously took a deep breath and focused on the air in his nose and lungs.

Bill. He knew what Bill felt like, what his magic felt like. A smudge of familiar in the sea of everything else.

"Hey," Bill said, being careful not to name Harry.

"It's Hadrian here," Harry said as he hugged Bill back.

"Nice. How's everything going?" Bill asked.

"Still loud and intense, but it's not quite as bad as it was," Harry said slowly, not wanting to worry Bill.

Bill looked at him for a moment, then said "Good. We can practice a bit today too when we do Occlumency. Where are you staying at the moment?" He asked.

"Hung Drawn 'n' Quarters." Harry said, "I have a deal with Madame Morbid for room and board." Harry went on, leading Bill thought the winding streets of Nocturne to the inn and up to his room.

He was not ashamed to have been on the streets, not really... But he was pleased beyond measure that Bill didn't have to know.

"Where are you staying? Do you have a place here?" Harry asked curiously.

"No. I have a place in Egypt, but not here. I stay in the Gringotts barracks when I'm in England."

They started going over the Wizengamot things first because that was still confusing Harry and the books were less than informative. Bill gave him a rundown of its structure and the voting process. Slowly it started to make sense and align with what his Slytherin peers had told him.

"Once you're emancipated," Bill explained, "you can set a proxy until you're 17. You can go with them as heir and watch them and learn from them. All heirs are allowed to go and watch proceedings. But the Wizengamot itself is not that complicated, it's the politics that get complicated." Bill explained.

They discussed politics for a little longer, then moved on to his mage sense. Bill had him working on a few exercises and gave him a few books. It was starting to be less overwhelming.

Occlumency practice turned out to be exhausting, even with the blocks off.

They spent the next hour meditating on Harry's inner mind, as Bill coached Harry through the next step of learning to shield his mind. He was almost ready to shape his inner mind into somewhere that felt safe. A place to retreat to and keep his memories in. He just wasn't sure what to shape it into... not much felt safe.

"You need to shape your inner mind now, build it into a sanctuary." Bill explained, "then you can start sorting your memories and hiding them. It will make it harder for someone else who uses Legilimency on you to find them. Not impossible, but it will put you in control of your mind, not someone else." Bill had explained.

"Properly occluding is what happens when you keep shields around your inner mind. It is consciously withdrawing into the inner mind, containing all your mental workings and thoughts in that safe inner sanctuary. That keeps people from picking up surface thoughts and using Legilimency on you undetected. Good Occlumency is really a lot of mental discipline, keeping the mind ordered and contained in your inner mind, not letting it flow over into the outer mind. The outer mind can be vulnerable to passive scans."

"That sounds exhausting," Harry said, feeling a little overwhelmed, despite how sensible it sounded; how secure it sounded.

"It can be at first," Bill said, "and many don't actually need that level of Occlumency. Many are fine building up outer laters, and many don't bother with Occlumency at all. But for you, it's going to be necessary." Bill said, "it will get easier with practice, and become something you don't even think about. It will end up feeling as natural as breathing when you get good at it."

"So how do I make shields?" Harry asked curiously, "can I make them around the outer mind and the inner mind?"

"Yes. Different people do it differently. Some use one image and focus outwardly on that, like fog or heavy rain. That makes it harder for the Legilimence to get through or even find the inner mind at all.

What you want is to visualise protections and barriers around your inner mind. You'll want to let some surface thoughts float around outside those shields allowing you to fool others into thinking you don't know Occlumency; which is frowned on." Bill explained, "Legilimency is considered darke by the Ministry. Occlumency is too."

"And shields around the outer mind?" Harry asked

"Yes. Now you can use that focusing technique, there too" he said.

"Could one use an endless sky? Blue sky and clouds for miles and not much else" Harry asked, "Or a deep ocean with no bottom? Like the Mariana Trench? Or maybe fire? That would be uncomfortable to go through, instinct would shy away from it. Especially if I could capture the feeling of that blistering heat."

"Yes, those are excellent ideas," Bill said, "you'll want to practice them before you go to sleep, clear your mind, and focus on those images."

"What else can you do to shield your mind?" Harry asked, curiously.

"Thats where active practice with a Legilimens comes in. The more you practice, the more your mind will naturally reinforce your shields and natural barriers." Bill explained, "Your magic, will form natural barriers for you with practice."

"If they're natural barriers, why do I not have any?" Harry asked, curiously.

"Some have better natural barriers than others." Bill said, "mine, for example, were pretty good. But Charlie's, being an empath, were pretty crap. He's super sensitive to feeling others, so he had to work pretty hard at it."

Bill went on, "but with your predisposition towards it, it's odd you have none. It could be your empathy, like Charlie. But it could be all the obliviates. Your mind's been broken into so many times it's destroyed your natural barriers."

Harry sighed, another thing Dumbledore had fucked up.

"Now I'm going to use Legilimency on you again, and I want you to try and throw me out. It should be easier now that the blocks are gone. I'm also going to try and have a look at the state of your natural barriers. Now the blocks have gone it could be that they've repaired themselves."

Bill took his wand out, "let's see what your natural barriers are like now the blocks are off," and cast the spell again.

It was easier this time, to feel Bill's probe. Harry could feel it approach his mind, and push against his own magic, sliding through. Images started to flick through his mind as he tried to push Bill out. It was harder than he thought as Bill just seemed to slip past everything Harry threw at him, like butter.

It was a strange sensation. Despite Harry liking the feel of Bill's magic, and being comfortable around Bill, having someone else's magic in his mind felt altogether wrong. It felt so intimate, even if he had agreed to it and understood it's importance. That made it easier to push the probe out with his own magic.

"It's easier to see them now," Bill said. "It looks like between the blocks, the obliviates and Dumbledore, and who else I'm not too sure, your natural barriers are pretty non-existent. They've been destroyed, and haven't started to repair themselves. The Soul Shard was certainly not helping. Though now it's detached and contained, it shouldn't be a problem. You may still get impressions, but you should be safe from the shard seeing anything from your mind or influencing you."

Bill sighed, "You have mental scarring. Practice will help build your natural shields back up. But it means it's more important than ever that you get good at Occlumency. You're an open book at the moment, vulnerable. Sort out your inner mind and gain the discipline to retreat in there. Your inner mind is less scarred and will be easier and more secure to shield. The inner mind, when occluded is also a lot harder to obliviate. If you're properly occluding, from the inner mind, the outer layer can be obliviated, but not the inner. So by knowing your mind, you can then go back and work out what was obliviated and undo it." Bill said.

"Brilliant," Harry said, "I have noticed some weird gaps and things now the binds are off."

"That will be the obliviates. Learning Occlumency may bring them back," Bill said, "but it may not. It often depends on how skilled the person obliviating you is, and how familiar they are with the mind."

Harry thought about it a long moment, "I think it was Quirrell in my first year, who helped destroy my natural barriers. I think he used Legilimency. I always got headaches from him. I thought it was just him, but he had Riddle sticking out of the back of his head, and Riddle is a Legilimens. He could have been using Legilimency on us all the time. And Professor Snape does it too I think. But I never get the same headaches around him."

Bill nodded, "Severus is, to an extent, a natural legilimence, to a stronger degree than you are."

Harry glanced up sharply. Why was Bill using the professor's first name?

"He's much better at Legilimency and doing it gently. Scanning the outer mind, for him, I think, is almost as natural as breathing, and less deliberate. So he'd be much better at doing it non-destructively when he's not actively doing the spell and breaking into another mind. I don't think any of this damage is from him. I really don't. I think your guess was right in saying it was Quirrellmort."

"Professor Snape hates me though," Harry said, trying to make sense of what he was feeling from Bill.

"Yep," Bill agreed, "but he wouldn't do that, Harry. He wouldn't."

"Using active Legilimency on another against their will, breaking through their shields to the inner mind, and violently too, is not only illegal and taboo, but it's also akin to rape." Bill went on, sounding mildly offended on Professor Snape's behalf.

"It's a very serious thing. He hates you, and is nasty in class, and can be a right arsehole at times. But he is not a mind rapist. Besides he vowed to protect you. This would go against that."

"How do you know him other than school?" Harry asked, frowning.

"We're friends," Bill said with a nonchalant shrug, that Harry thought was a bit forced.

Harry didn't narrow his eyes curiously, though, he was instantly curious. Being openly curious about something someone was downplaying was an instant give away, and would have that person shutting up tighter than a clam, in a heartbeat.

What was Bill downplaying? Harry thought Bill felt slightly embarrassed, defensive and something that Harry couldn't quite define...

That was interesting.

But he said nothing as Bill continued, "met him again through Gringotts when I was doing my training, back in your first year. I'm not in England as much as I am in Egypt, but he is the best potions master in the country, one of the best in all of Europe. Gringotts calls him in sometimes as a contracted consultant or brewer. We got talking and kept in touch. We're pen friends."

Harry's mind boggled at the idea of his teacher having a life outside of school and someone actually liking Professor Snape. Snape was so horrible!

Bill just laughed fondly at his expression and said, "he's not that bad outside of teaching. Honest! Especially when he's not slaving away for Dumbledore. Now, come on, let's practice," Bill said, raising his wand, clearly eager to change the subject.

Harry looked at him for a moment, but let it go. He took a moment to clear his mind and called up an image of fire. He'd never been to the ocean or in any deep body of water so he couldn't really focus on that. But he did find staring into a fire rather calming.

He almost didn't notice Bill casting the spell, but he could feel it coming towards him. He focused on his fire. The probe bounced off lightly. He grinned, and his focus crumbled as a second probe touched the edge of his mind and slipped through as if it were made of water.

Images started flashing through Harry's mind as he tried to focus on the fire again, or on the magic.

Snape yelling at him in the classroom, Snape being bullied by his father, Dudley doing the same thing to Harry...

No!

Harry fought for focus, to concentrate on the magic so he could feel what was going on. So he didn't get lost in the memories.

He gathered his own magic as Bill pushed back gently, images flickered in his mind, like a poorly tuned radio. Harry pushed back, and threw Bill's probe out.

He was panting, on the rough wooden floor of his room at the Hung Drawn 'n' Quarters.

Bill looked pail but said, "Good, Harry, very good!"

"Don't," Harry stuttered, panting, "what you saw... don't tell. Not mine to tell. Don't let anyone know. If you're his friend... don't tell! He won't want anyone knowing! Please, Bill! Don't tell! He's so mad at me! You weren't meant to see!"

"Harry?" Bill said, crouching next to him looking concerned.

"Snape, you saw... in my head... he doesn't want anyone knowing, what James did to him. He was furious when he found out I knew, about him and my father. Please don't let him know you know. He loathes me, please! It will make it so much worse!" Harry begged.

"Everything I see in your head is confidential." Bill soothed, "I won't breathe a word of what I see to anyone I promise."

"Even Charlie?" Harry said, looking straight at Bill.

"Harry?" Bill asked with a slight frown.

"I know you confide in him. You tell him things. How much are you going to tell him about Snape? About what you learned in my head? Snape'll kill me, Bill," Harry pleaded trying to control his panic.

Harry wished Charlie was there suddenly.

"Harry, take a deep breath for me okay?" Bill said, "Severus's secrets are safe. Your secrets are safe. He won't kill you, I promise." Bill continued putting a hand gently on Harry's shoulder, "he vowed to protect you, you're safe. He's secrets are safe. Just breathe Harry."

Harry leaned into the hand and just breathed. When he was finally calm again, he muttered, "thanks."

"It's okay, we can talk about it later if you want, but for now, do you feel up to doing more Occlumency?"

Harry nodded, and they started practising again.

Harry's Occlumency was beginning to get better now his mind was free. Not only could he feel Bill's Legilimency probe coming towards him; but he could feel it interacting with his own magic now and could push it away. It was gradually getting more natural.

The exercise had shown him the importance of having good mental shields, however. While he could push the probe away, the rest of his mind was unprotected, and it seemed effortless for Bill to just slip around it and try to enter his mind from another point.

He ended up accidentally slipping into Bill's mind a few times while pushing him out too. So Bill started teaching him to control his talent. Or attempting too. Harry didn't always realise he was doing it. And it was proving to be very difficult for Harry to get his head around and start deliberately using legitimacy. Or at least controlling. It was strange. But it reminded him of something he'd meant to ask Bill.

"What did you do? Back at Gringotts?" Harry asked when they'd finished their lesson and were eating lunch, "you kind of spoke in my head, but without the words."

"Oh," Bill said, remembering. "It wasn't precisely Legilimency on either of our parts. It was more reaching out to your mind and projecting. Charlie said he thought you were an empath last Wednesday. With your talent for the mind arts, I was pretty sure you'd be able to pick up on it. If not my projected thoughts and memories, then the emotions and impressions. Charlie and I perfected the trick when we were kids.

I wanted to warn you to haggle with Rodgrip but couldn't really say so in front of her. It would be seen as a weakness on your part. The goblins will rip Wizards off in a heartbeat if Wizards are 'too stupid to bother to haggle.' Haggling's a big thing for goblins. So is not backing down and honour and that sort of thing. But, the more you haggle, the happier they will be with the deal."

"It was fun," Harry said with a shadow of the vicious grin he'd given Rodgrip.

Bill laughed, "pretty sure Rodgrip thought so too. I'm coming to learn not to underestimate you," he said with a smile, "you're a vicious little thing when you want to be."

Harry just grinned and let the 'little' comment slide.

This time.

"Oh! I've got something for you, but first," Bill said as he pulled out a mirror from his pocket.

Harry watched curiously as Bill tapped it with his wand and said, "Charlie."

There was a long pause. Harry recognised the mirror as something Charlie had used too. He watched curiously as the image blinked and showed the darkened roof of a tent. A groan, wand light, then Charlie's face appeared, looking groggy and mostly asleep, his hair going all over the place. Harry grinned and leaned into Bill's space to get a better look at the mirror.

"Billiam?" Charlie mumbled, scrubbing at his eyes.

Harry snickered at the name as Bill rolled his eyes and said overly cheerily, "hello brother mine."

Charlie groaned and shut his eyes briefly before he yawned and then peered closely at Bill for a long moment. He must have found whatever he was looking for because he relaxed, stretched, yawned again, and said, "oh fuck off Billiam."

But there was no heat to his words.

The image flipped as if the mirror was tossed onto the bed and went black for a moment as it landed face down on the covers.

"What-" Harry started, but Bill just grinned, snickering and said, "don't worry. He's not angry, just half asleep. We do this a lot. Watch."

Before Harry could say anything else, the image tilted again, as Charlie picked it up again. He was in a fluffy purple dressing gown holding an enormous steaming mug.

"Now that I have chocolate, what's up?" Charlie said.

"Sorry, on Nocturne time," Bill said, not looking that sorry at all.

"S'fine, what's up?" Charlie said rolling his eyes and taking a long drag of hot chocolate.

"I'm having lunch with Harry here," Bill turned the mirror around and Harry waved.

"Harry!" Said Charlie smiling brightly before catching sight of Harry.

"Fuck, Bill! You didn't say it would be that bad! What did that fucking ritual do to him? He was almost looking healthy too. Shite Harry, are you okay, love?

Despite the endearment he still wasn't used to, Harry scowled. He hated being so skinny. It wasn't his fault the ritual had pulled on all his reserves that he'd fought so hard to build up over the term.

"I don't look that bad," Harry grumbled, trying not to snap.

"You do sweetheart," Charlie moaned, worry bleeding through his voice, "you were almost looking healthy when I saw you last. You look like you did at the Cup, again! Half-starved, like a stiff breeze, could snap you in two. You need a good meal of three. Christ."

"I'm fine!" Harry did snap this time, despite being warmed by the endearment "I'm not weak!"

"Fuck that's not what I meant! I know you're not. Shite sorry, love. I'm rubbish with words." He rubbed his eyes again, looking tired and upset. He looking at Bill pleadingly as if to translate for him and to help him fix it.

Bill snorted, shaking his head and said to Harry, "got no brain mouth filter when he's tired or half-asleep that one. He's got a really filthy mouth on him then too, my brother has." he said with a teasing smirk.

Harry's scowl lessened as Charlie playful snapped, "fuck off, Billiam, its early," using the odd nickname deliberately this time.

Bill just laughed and asked, "how much sleep have you had tonight brother mine?

"An hour."

Bill winced, "ouch, sorry, brother."

"Would have hung up if I minded, 's fine," Charlie said and took a long draft of his drink.

"Harry, I didn't mean it as an accusation or judgment or insult. I promise. I am worried because I care. That's all." Charlie said, "it's really good to see you, though. Are you okay? Doing alright in Nocturne? How was the ritual?"

Harry relaxed, the previous tension draining out of him. He went back to leaning into Bill's side, so they could both see the mirror more easily. Bill just put an arm around him, letting Harry snuggle in close.

"Dobby and Winky are working on feeding me up again. I feel loads better. I'm okay. It was hard and not much fun, but I'm glad I did it."

"Good," said Charlie looking relieved.

"And that's what we're talking about brother mine," Bill said, sipping his tea.

"The ritual?" Charlie asked frowning.

"No, how much we tell each other." Bill said, "Harry was interested, and confused about the whole 'how much is acceptable to confide in another, and when does it break confidence and confidentiality' thing."

Charlie blinked, "oooh boy," he sighed perching his chin on top of the still-steaming mug.

"You guys are close." Harry said, "you knew about Gringotts, didn't you?" He spoke to Charlie, "and you knew about my post-task meltdown, didn't you?" Harry said, turning to Bill, who nodded.

Charlie hesitated a moment, looked unsure. He paused and then said very carefully "we grew up very close. Mum was always busy with the little kids and dad was always working to try and bring money in. We didn't want to bother them, as they were often so busy. But we needed someone else to confide and rely on. So we leaned on each other. I can't ever remember Bill not being around."

"Same," said Bill, "Charlie is only a year younger than me, I don't remember a time when it wasn't the two of us. Except when I started Hogwarts first." He added with a slight grimace.

"That was fucking awful," Charlie said with a scowl, and Bill nodded.

"We grew up doing practically everything together, a bit like the twins now. That didn't change when we went to school or when we went to live in other countries. We still talk every day, he's my best friend and my confidant, and I, his." Bill said.

Charlie hesitated again, thinking of how to explain it.

"Bill loves his job, but it was hard at first when he was not able to share all the amazing things he was doing." Charlie said, "and some of the terrifying things, or some of the horrifying accidents."

"Some of the accidents have been pretty awful; we lost 3 people in my first month of training alone. It was a bit of a culture shock. In my line of work, idiocy or carelessness literally gets you killed." Bill added.

Charlie nodded in agreement, "same here really. We're each other's emergency contact. The bank calls me when Bill's hurt, and the Captain calls Bill when I'm hurt. Then mum doesn't worry and have extra ammunition to use against us when she berates us for choosing the jobs that we have. We love our jobs and the freedom they give us."

"So we look after each other. We've sorted it out with Gringotts, so we can be each other's confidante without breaking our oaths. It's not really breaking as I don't get the specifics," Charlie continued, "and I'm also bound by his confidentiality oaths too."

"Everyone who works for Gringotts is allowed one confidante," Bill explained, picking up the conversation. "They are also bound by the same confidentiality contracts and oaths.

Goblins believe in stringent confidentiality oaths, but also that each worker should have one person they can talk to and confide in. It doesn't mean I can give away Gringotts secrets or talk about highly confidential classified specifics. Nevertheless, I can speak about most work stuff with Charlie. He's bound to keep Gringotts secrets that I share with him."

"There was an oath and contracts at the bank," Charlie added in, "when Bill signed on. I had to sign some things and make some oaths when he chose me as his confidante. That let him tell me things and not break his non-disclosure agreements." He stopped, looking uncomfortable.

"It might seem weird, but it works for us, as that's the way its always been. That's why it was so hard in that first few months when he couldn't say anything. We'd never done that before."

"So, for example," Bill explained, "after that first meeting with you, I was pretty worried. I didn't give him the particulars or the details of the meeting or of your account. However, I did tell him I was worried about you and that you'd had things tough, and that it would probably get worse before it got better. I was worried about you. And I was honestly furious that you'd been in that spot to start with. Which is nothing he didn't already know or suspect."

Harry looked at Charlie sharply.

"The twins told us about the bars on the window, and you need to be sent food. They knew about the scars. They came to us a few times over the years to try and get you help. They tried to get you out. So did we, but got turned down from all sides." Charlie said, not looking at Harry, running a finger up and down the handle of his mug.

Harry blushed, then remembered what Rodgrip had said about him being a warrior. Those scars were badges of honour because he survived, and he was still here. They were proof of his survival, that he had gone through hell and was still going. They were the proof, carved into his skin that he was not weak. He did not need to be ashamed.

He straightened his spine, "it's okay, I don't mind," he said, "I'm not ashamed. I'm glad they had you guys when they were worried, and that you guys have each other. It sounds nice."

"Humans are social creatures, even if I hate people most of the time. We need someone to be able to confide in." Charlie said, rubbing at the back of his neck, looking strangely, uncharacteristically defensive. "Not many people understand our relationship, but we're close. I know about Gringotts, he told me in confidence. He knows about the letters I sent you, and about the book."

Harry wondered then, how many times Charlie had had to deal with people not understanding, or being unkind about how close a bond he had with his brother. And it made his heart hurt for the redhead.

"After you both had a panic attack at the task," Bill added, "Charlie called me."

"Always do after one of them," Charlie muttered.

Bill nodded, "and I'm glad you do." he reassured, before turning back to Harry, "he said you might be an empath, and he was worried about how much pressure you were under. We don't give each other the nitty-gritty confidential details of other peoples personal lives. We can keep a secret. If you want to share, that's your business, but we do talk. That's just how we've always done it. We can judge when it's okay to tell the other and when it's not."

"We can do boundaries, you know," Charlie tried to joke.

"We just often don't," added Bill with a grin, making Harry laugh.

Charlie's face then turned serious, "I'm really sorry if you feel that was a breach of your trust."

He was so earnest, but his face had an odd expression on it. As if he expected Harry to shun him or turn him away. As if he expected Harry to be upset with him.

Harry was not sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, Bill had taken an oath of secrecy to both him and Gringotts. But it sounded like Charlie was an extension of that. So had Bill really broken his confidence? No. He hadn't. Not by the bank's standards, not by Harry's either really. And Harry trusted Bill and Charlie.

Harry thought, in a way, it was a good idea; a sound system. He had at times, as a child yearned to be able to confide in someone, to tell someone how horrible things were. He supposed he was almost jealous of what Bill and Charlie had, of them being so comfortable with each other that they could talk about anything and everything. He yearned for that. Hermione was his best friend, but he didn't think he could ever trust someone enough to tell them everything, to rely on someone like that.

He also hated that weird, uncomfortable expression on Charlie's face. Hated the anxious, uncomfortable feel of Bill's magic. Hated the defensive way Charlie was holding his mug and hunching his shoulders forward as if worried Harry would blow up... Would reject him, Harry suddenly realised.

He didn't ever want to be the cause of that.

"so, like how the books say husbands and wives don't have secrets from each other?" Harry asked after considering it for a moment.

"I guess," Bill said with an unworried shrug, that hid his disquiet.

"But not with the sex!" Charlie blurted out.

Harry made a face as Bill laughed.

"I love Bill, he's my best friend, my brother, my other half, but I do not like him like that." Charlie made a thoroughly disgusted face, making Harry laugh again, breaking the tension.

Charlie still looked a bit uncomfortable, however, as if waiting for the ridicule he knew would come. As if people had turned him away over something so simple as getting on well with his brother.

How many times before had one of them been rejected because of how close they were, Harry wondered again. He was reminded vividly now of the rumours that sometimes went around about how close Fred and George were. And how unhappy that made them. How uncomfortable it made them.

He remembered their faces after Percy had given them a good dressing down in Harry's first year. He'd caught them snuggling under a blanket, sharing an armchair and a book. They'd been mortified and so upset. They'd just been reading, they weren't doing anything wrong. And Harry hadn't understood what Percy was assuming at the time. Or maybe what assumptions he was trying to protect his brothers from. But he knew that it was bad, and it had hurt the twins.

"So like the twins are super close," Harry said

"Yes," Bill said, sounding relieved.

Charlie nodded, looking less miserable.

"'s okay," Harry said, "I get it. I don't mind. Really."

He leaned comforting into Bills side resting his head on Bills chest. He wished he could hug Charlie and make it better. He badly wanted to reassure Charlie. He knew what that fear of rejection felt like.

"I get it, I'm glad, really" Harry said again, and Bill wrapped an arm tightly around Harry and hugged him close, pressing his cheek to Harry's hair.

Charlie's relief was palpable, "not many understand. The twins do, but even they don't really get it, as we're not twins."

"They think it's weird that we're as close as they are, when we're not twins," Bill murmured from above Harry, "sorry if we've upset you."

Harry shook his head, "I'm not upset. I don't know if I understand either," Harry admitted honestly. "I don't really do the whole trust thing, it's odd still. But I think I'm learning."

He paused a moment thinking, his head still on Bill's chest.

"I can't imagine having someone I could tell everything too; or be that honest with all the time. But it sounds really really nice. I wish I had that. I'm not upset with you guys. You're both great. I think if I were capable of really trusting someone, you guys would be it." He murmured so quietly Bill wasn't sure he'd heard him. But Bill pressed his cheek to Harry's hair again and hugged him tightly for a moment.

"Anyway," Charlie said, changing the topic, "you given him his Yule present yet Billiam?"

"I haven't forgotten! That's one of the reasons I originally called you, Charlie. So you could see his face when he opens it!" Bill said, shifting and pulling out a package from his bag and handing it to Harry. It was covered in little animated dragons.

Harry grinned, "what's this?" He asked, curiously.

"Open it and see!" Charlie teased.

"It's from Charlie and I, of course." Bill said, "Charlie insisted that since he wasn't here to give it to you, it had to be wrapped in dragon paper. He gave me the spell for it," Bill said with a smile, then whispered, as if it were a secret "he's obsessed with them!"

"I won't even argue that," Charlie said, making Harry laugh, "thanks for fire-proof shirts, by the way, Harry, and the bracelet. Well done for getting your idea for the, both up and working!"

"Thanks, I'm glad you liked them," Harry said grinning.

"I did."

"So did I." Said Bill, "it will come in handy. How'd you get my size anyway?" He asked

Harry smirked, "same way I got Charlie's, by asking you."

Bill snorted and said, "open your present."

Harry unwrapped the package, being careful not to tear the paper. Inside was a round mirror a little bigger than Harry's palm. It was silver and very similar to Bill and Charlie's. He grinned.

"It's a communication mirror. Like the Gringotts boxes. If you write the name and mirror code on the back, you can link it up with others. That allows you to say the person's name and it will link to the other mirror, like we did with Charlies," Bill explained.

He then showed Harry the spell to lift the mirror itself out off the handle so Harry could see Bill and Charlie's names on the other side of the glass. Just like with the Gringotts boxes.

"We've linked yours to both our mirrors so you can call us, whenever you like." Charlie added, "so we don't need to spend some much time every day scribbling letters."

"I also linked then up, so we can all talk via the mirrors at once if we want to have a conversation, but we haven't tried that yet," Bill added. Harry's face burst into the biggest smile they'd ever seen.

"This is brilliant, thanks!" Harry said hugging Bill, "thanks Charlie," he said, beaming into the mirror.

"We're thrilled you like it, Harry," Charlie said, smiling sleepily, "totally worth being up at 2 in the morning for!"

Harry laughed.

"How long have you got Charlie?" Bill asked suddenly

"I got time," Charlie said, waving a hand dismissively, "I don't start till later tomorrow."

Bill looked at his brother for a long moment, and something passed between them that Harry didn't understand, before Bill said, "sweet. Now Harry, why don't you tell us what was really going on after the task. You've been quiet in your letters."

Harry sighed at how astute they both were but told Bill and Charlie, haltingly, about how the Hogwarts population had been treating him and about the un-housing.

They were horrified.

Then, with great trepidation, he told them about Ron's hexing and pushing.

They sighed. Upset but not surprised. Harry narrowed his eyes at them, pulling away from Bill, so they weren't touching at all anymore.

"Don't tell me he'll get over it, eventually!" Harry snapped coldly, "that's not okay."

"No," Bill said solemnly, "it's not."

Charlie looked tired suddenly but in total agreement.

"It hurt." Harry said, "it was awful! Having that curse used on me. Slugs were crawling inside me! That's magical assault and it's not okay.

"No. It's not," Charlie said, "I'm really sorry he did that to you. It's not okay."

"But it's what he's used to, using magic and hexing when he's mad." Bill said, "it's not an excuse," he hurried, raising a hand, "but its an explanation. If we used magic against the little ones at home, we were in for a world of sorry."

"But if they hexed us, it was okay," added Charlie uncharacteristically bitter, "because they were little and didn't know better, and we were trained and could handle it."

"So he had a slight sense of superiority I guess," said Bill. "He and Ginny, as the youngest two were pretty spoilt. Not with money, but with time and attention and getting away with things we were never allowed to get away with."

"We'll talk to him," said Charlie, "see if we can coax some sense into him."

"He probably won't listen to us the way the twins would, but we'll give it a go," Bill said, sounding sad and tired.

And Harry didn't like that tone on them. And he didn't really understand what they were saying about their sibling dynamic. But it made a heavy feeling in his chest. He shuffled closer to Bill again and asked, "why won't he listen to you? You're his brothers? He thinks you're both really cool. Why wouldn't he listen to you?"

"Yeah," said Charlie, "but that does not translate to doing what he's told."

"It never has. 'Your not my mum, I don't have to listen to you!'" Quoted Bill.

"You forgot, 'your not the auras!" Added Charlie with a laugh, "that's possibly the most annoying."

Bill laughed, "shit, the kid had attitude," then at Harry's face said, "we helped mum out a lot with the little kids when we were growing up. We looked after the twins a lot when Ron and Ginny came alone, or when Percy was unwell-"

"The kid got dragon pox as a baby" Charlie added in, "he was a sickly kid for ages after that. Poor sod."

"So the twins will listen to us, but Ron never did the same way when we tried to help him learn what things not to do."

"Anyway!" Charlie said, changing the subject quickly.

Harry got the vague impression that their childhood home life was a bit of a sore spot. They didn't want to talk about it. Something intriguing and curious, but he could totally understand not wanting to talk about it. Maybe the Weasley family wasn't as perfect and wonderful as it had seemed.

They kept chatting for a while discussing the next task, and what Harry's plans were now that he was free of the potions. He filled Charlie in on all the little details Bill hadn't told him as they finished lunch. Eventually, however, reluctantly they had to say goodnight to Charlie so he could get some sleep and Bill needed to get back to Gringotts.

Standing outside the inn when Bill was about to leave, Harry said suddenly, "I'm glad you two have each other's backs like the twins do. It sounds nice. I've always been a bit jealous of them, having an other half. I'm glad you two have each other."

Bill wrapped an arm around Harry and Harry went on, "I'm glad I don't have to lie and hide with you two. I don't mind if you tell him things about any of this, as long as he keeps it too." Harry said, pressing his face into Bill's middle in a hug.

Bill hugged him back tightly and said, "always. He won't breathe a word to anyone, his confidentiality is an extension of mine. He won't let on that he knows."

"Charlie can't lie," Harry said without thinking about it

Bill snorted, "Charlie can lie. He's an excellent liar. He just rarely puts effort into bothering. He doesn't often need to anymore."

Harry frowned but nodded, "thank's, Bill. See you tomorrow?"

"Cause," Bill said with an easy grin, before "and Harry? Severus's secret is safe with me. Promise," he added, before melting back into the Nocturne crowd.

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning. He worked through the rest of the rooms and cleaned up the cellar and attic a bit. It was hard, filthy work, but his mind felt calmer and more steady than he had in weeks by the time he'd finished. He could now slip in and out of his magic and deep into his mind at will. The cleaning was good practice for his control over magic and his Occlumency. He was getting much better at channelling magic into his hands to help him clean and was getting faster at it.

The night rush started, but Harry kept scrubbing. The patrons had seen him around the inn a bit now and left him to it. He finished polishing the main room and looked around it with pride.

The inn looked like a different place now. And it had only taken him 3 days to give the place a thorough scrub and get it looking clean! It must be his personal record!

The floors and wooden panelling were clean and shining. The fireplace had been cleaned, and the tables scrubbed and polished. The windows and kitchen sparkled, and the bedrooms and bathrooms had been mopped, dusted and now smelt fresh.

Deeply satisfied with the proof of his hard work, he dragged himself upstairs and practically fell into his trunk and into bed, not even changing his clothes before he was asleep.

END NOTES:

So I've bent and adjusted some of the Weasley family back story.

No not all of it was stated in cannon, I've created some and adjusted it where I needed to. I needed to give them a bit more history and emotional depth.


	46. Chapter 46 Mirrors

Harry woke the next day rather early. The sun was just starting to set over the rooftops of Nocturne. Despite being tired, he hadn't slept that well.

He huffed and downed his morning potions before going for a run. It was early still when he got back, but he came downstairs after his shower to a steaming plate of French toast and crispy bacon from a very pleased Madame Morbid.

"You can come here any time kid. You're a good hard worker, and as long as you don't make no trouble, I always have space for good hard workers.

Harry beamed. This was the first time anyone had ever acknowledge his hard work and been pleased with it. It was a good feeling.

"Well I'm good with my hands and handy with a knife if you need extra help," he offered, "I noticed you seemed to be run ragged in the kitchen last night, and on the floor with it being so busy."

She pulled up a chair next to him and looked at him critically.

Finally, she said, "turn up at four to help prep for the dinner rush, then you can help pour drinks and carry food, do dishes and the like. If your as good at that as you are at cleaning, you can stay. If your crap, I'm not paying you."

"I won't be," Harry said, making her grin heartily.

They haggled a bit over wages. It seemed the goblins had rubbed off on nocturne culture. They'd almost settled on pay when Dobby and Winky popped in, demanded to be included too.

They ended up agreeing that, Harry would be paid 2 Galleons, 11 Sickles, and 20 Knuts an hour and would keep any tips he made. Dobby was allowed to help out in the inn, for a sickle a day and would answer when Morbid called, whenever Harry didn't have anything for him to do. Winky, would too, but refused to be paid. All four of them left rather pleased with themselves.

Madame Morbid, never having acquired house-elves for the inn was glad to have some part-time. She was also delighted to have another set of hands for the busy season when they were so understaffed. Dung really had run the place into the ground, but people still flocked to the cheap inn. Especially, now it was known to be under new management.

It also meant Dobby and Winky could help in the kitchens, so Harry could rest a little easier knowing his elves wouldn't let anything be slipped into his food. He'd test it anyway, but he felt a little better about it.

Harry cast a quick Tempus charm. He still had time before meeting Bill, and it wasn't too late yet...

He cast a privacy ward and pulled out the mirror he'd gotten from Bill and Charlie. He'd been itching to try it.

"Charlie Weasley." He said softly tapping it with his wand. It blinked, and Charlie's face appeared, sitting in some kind of mess hall, the noise of people filtering through in the background. Harry grinned and waved.

"Hey, Harry!" Charlie said grinning

"Hello Charlie," Harry said, feeling a bit awkward suddenly.

"Is this a social call or is something up?" He asked with a grin, "testing out your new mirror?"

"Yes," Harry said, "it's brilliant! Thank you so much for getting it for me."

"It was our pleasure," Charlie said, "now we can talk face to face instead of writing inches and inches of parchment every day."

Harry grinned and said, "how're the Dragons?"

Charlie grinned and proceeded to tell him all about the latest dragon news. Excitingly, they'd had a few funding donations since The Quibbler articles had been published in the Romanian Dragon magazine. They chatted easily for a while before Charlie said, "I can tell somethings eating at you, what do you want to ask?"

Harry blinked. Had he been so transparent? He blushed lightly. Charlie laughed at his expression and smiled, "well, what's biting at you?"

"Bills hiding something," Harry blurted out worriedly, remembering their odd conversation yesterday about Professor Snape.

Charlie chuckled, raising his eyebrows and said ruefully, "he's a curse breaker and does confidential work for Gringotts. He's up to his eyeballs in Magical Non-Disclosure Agreements. He hides a lot of things."

Harry huffed out a laugh, "that's not what I meant, Charlie! Whats Bill's deal with Professor Snape? He used his first name!"

Charlie snorted this time, then snickered, but pulled himself together and said, "their friends, Harry."

It was hard to see anyone being friends with the dour man, but he was intelligent. And Bill was pretty smart too. Maybe they bonded over smarts?

"Charlie, Professor Snape's horrible. He's angry and loud, and he's got a horrible temper. He'll be mean to Bill. I like Bill, he doesn't deserve that."

Charlie smiled fondly at Harry, "I hear you, Harry. But he's not actually that bad when he's not being forced to teach unappreciative idiots. He also hates kids in general (I don't blame him really). So when he's not being forced to do something he hates and doesn't want to, he's far less cranky." Charlie said reassuringly.

Harry stared.

Charlie laughed and said, "Bill says he's pretty funny, very reserved, but sarcastic and has a wicked sense of humour. Now, I'm not in school he's not actually that bad. Not that I've interacted with him much, but Bill likes him."

Harry did narrow his eyes this time, still worried.

"Bill's okay," Charlie reassured, "he can look after himself and hold his own if Snape does to get snarky with him, I promise. Bill's okay."

Harry looked at him a long moment, meeting Charlie's eyes for once. Then he nodded slowly feeling a little reassured but frowned when remembering their conversation, "he's hiding something though, he felt weird."

Bill had felt fond when he'd talked about Professor Snape. He had been sure of what he was saying, but there had been an undercurrent of mild embarrassment now that Harry thought about it. But there had been more too it than that. There had been something else. Harry wasn't very good at deciphering feelings.

"What do you mean weird?" Charlie asked, not questioning that Harry felt something, but more questioning the weirdness.

"He shrugged as if it were nothing when he said they were friends, but felt defensive and a bit embarrassed. And I don't know... felt defensive of Snape when he talked about him, he felt… I don't know, squirmy."

Charlie snorted, but said, "your empathy has gotten stronger since the blocks came off."

"It has," Harry said nodding, "before it was mild. It was more is it a threat or not and how strong it was. Now I notice a more comprehensive range of emotions. I can focus it now. And don't change the subject!"

"Ask Bill," Charlie said with a smile and a shrug, "just because I know all his secrets doesn't mean I'm going to tell them. And that doesn't mean there's a secret to tell," he added hurriedly.

Harry didn't narrow his eyes at this, but let it go instead. He trusted Charlie and Bill. But he was reassured by Charlie openly keeping Bill's secrets.

"So you have empathy too then?" Harry said, changing the subject, "how's it work?"

Harry's Occlumency was improving, and despite being tired, he managed to push Bill out of his mind more reliably in his lesson that morning. He was starting to expand his magic into a shield against Bill's probes and was able to spread it more widely and more quickly now. But he still hadn't managed to shape his inner mind into something that made sense yet. Ordering his mind was just as tricky as he had expected it to be.

In the end, Bill did a guided meditation with Harry. And over an hour, Harry sank deep into his magic and into his mind. He actually managed to, not shape it into something, but see what shape it actually already had. The centre of his mind was a his cupboard under the stairs. It was dark, but warn and seemed to be cluttered with blankets and pillows and floaty coloured strands, laying about all over the place. The colour strands seemed to be his memories.

It was an odd process of touching one of the bits of swirling colour, watching the memory then learning how to shape the swirling strand of colour into an object to hide and store the memory in.

It was odd, and the task of sorting all his memories was both daunting and seemingly impossible. There was so much! He had to be intimately familiar with each and every bit of his mind, and who he was as a person! That and a lot of his memoirs were rather painful and unpleasant.

After Occlumency, they moved on to look at estate management, the role of being a lord and being on the Wizengamot. Aver lunch, Bill started teaching Harry more about warding and curse-breaking now that he could feel his magic.

"Its a fascinating and versatile field Harry." Bill said, "I became a master warder to become better curse breaker, which also has quite a lot of study into Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Not everyone does it that way, but it helps. And with someone out for your head, having strong wards will help you. Wards are not just about stopping someone entering a place or picking out your wallet." He'd explained, going on to show Harry how to embed some wards into his clothes and even starting to touch on blood wards.

It helped Harry along a lot in working out how to transfer the shielding ward on his bracelet into one of the tiny earrings he's baught. He'd been working on placing wards and shield onto smaller pieces of jewellery ever since Bill had sent him the fang earring.

They planned out the rest of the week too, so they can really knuckle down and make the most of the time they had before school went back. If they wanted Harry to be ready to take up his Lordship's when he was 15, if he can managed emancipateion, then they had a lot to cover.

Bill drew up a timetable and everything. So they had an hour of Occlumency every morning, an hour on warding and duelling, then an hour on lords, heirs and pureblood things before lunch.

Bill gave Harry books too, lots of them and they knuckled down to try and get it all done. They had to, especially if Harry wanted to sit some of his OWLs over the summer.

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon working on his Occlumency back in his room at Morbid's. Sorting out his memories was just as painful and unpleasant as he thought, but it was powerfully cathartic as well.

That wasn't all he had done, though. He spent a good bit of time studying and reading the various books Bill had given him. He also started the ones his mum had and spent time playing with his magic. And of course, working on his various projects. He was hoping to put blood wards into his cupboard.

Now he had better control over his magic he could ward it up properly. He was hoping that he could manage it to coax Hogwarts into letting him use one of the stones in the cupboard wall as a ward stone. That way, he could anchor his wards around his cupboard into her central wards, making them stronger.

That evening Morbid set Harry to work helping in the kitchen, under Furloff. Birdie was sceptical at first, at having an unknown in their kitchen, and glared at him. But after seeing how well Harry could chop, slice and prepare vegetables, and how effectively he could manage mountains of dishes, she relaxed as was less hostile, marginally.

In the kitchen, dirty dishes washed themselves, spells were used to dry then and another spell put them away on their correct shelves. The bin vanished rubbish, banished the glass bottles to the recycling crate and the bin also banished any compostable items to the compost bin out the back.

Harry was rather impressed. The Glass bottles were sent back to the supplier, and in return, they got a discount on their next order. The compost was also collected once a week by a shop that made fertiliser for many of the greenhouses in wizarding Britain.

The kitchens did more than that with magic too. While some ingredients could be prepared with a spell and set to chop themselves, some magical ingredients like venomous tentacular shoots had to be hand prepared. It was good work; it kept him busy, and he learned to make a few Wizarding dishes and a few other creature cuisines as well. It was fun.

Working in the kitchen wasn't the only thing he did, however. Once the dinner rush really started, he was sent to the floor to help Madame Morbid. He waited on tables, poured drinks, took orders and payment, and was a general busy body.

Some of the less regular locals eye him suspiciously. But they'd seen him around now, cleaning and working hard, So they eventually warmed up to him. Relatively quickly by Nocturne standards anyway. And really, a magical inn was so different! It was endlessly fascinating.

For example, the tables wiped themselves down, with a mere flick of a wand, the trays of food would float over to the tables, and places themselves in front of people. Though it was better to take them yourself to big tables or the dish's would get confused over who belonged to who. The taps of beer poured themselves. All Harry had to do was put a mug underneath the tap, and it would pore itself, magicly knowing when to stop.

It turned out that there was also an option of self-ordering. Guests could tap a menu and speak what they wanted. The order would update on their tab, and be sent to the kitchen. Morbid only activated that option though, when they were reasonably busy. She thought it was too impersonal for everyday use.

"I like to know my customers," she'd told him when she gave him the rundown of the place.

A muttered spell and plates of food would put themselves on trays and levitate over to one of the waiters to be directed across the floor or taken to a table. At the end of the night, they would send themselves off to the kitchens to be washed. The brooms and mops would take care of the floors automatically as well.

Harry met all sorts of people too. Not all of them were humans, and he slowly started picking up bits and pieces about the Darke culture and Nocture Culture. It was certainly informative and in some ways, more so than his books on the Darke.

That evening alone he learnt how to light candles just by blowing on them or pinching the wick from a vampire, called Klaus. Harry had seen him lightning a candle and had wanted to ask, but knew better. So he just watched.

Klaus had first looked at him with suspicion for a long moment but then smiled cooly and blew out the candle.

The next time Harry brought him a drink, Klaus repeated the trick slowly, so Harry could see how he'd done it, a sly smile on his face. It was brilliant! Harry was fairly sure Klaus followed the Old ways of the Darke and also worships Hekate. But he wasn't compliantly sure.

But he picked up all sorts of useful things and ended up getting a lot of advice about worshipping the old gods from the vampire. Harry never asked, but Klaus often let things slip when Harry passed or offered him the odd explanatory comments. Harry was starting to seriously consider dedicating himself to Hekate like his mother had.

He liked his job, and it gave him a few extra coins on the side, especially if he got tips.

0o0o0o0o0o

NOTES

Tempus, is a time charm.

Note toenail growing hex, incantation I made up using a latin translator and messing around with the letters a bit. Basically I butchered it till it sounded right. I don't speak latin, so apologies, but deal with it.

Wage equates to $20AUD hour which is what my own base wage was when I started working in retail.

In this a time turner can go back a full 12 hours or a day. Depending on which ring you spin. Theirs an hour spinner and a day

Reference to Six of Crows be Leigh Bardugo and Chris D'lacy's Fire Within. Both books were not out at the time Lily would have read them. But I'm bending the rules


	47. Chapter 47 Visiting Hermione

See end for more notes

Instead of going to bed in the early hours of the morning, after they had closed the kitchens for the day, Harry left the alley. He used the last of his muggle money, to get a muggle bus ticket and headed off to Kensington. Hermione had given him her address when she said her parents had been working all day again.

On the bus he read his mum's book on Hekate and the darke. He hadn't had as much time to read her books, not just for his curiosity anyway. It had been all study, study, study lately. He really wished he had a time turner. The book was brilliant and fascinating, and the more he read it, the more sense the Darke made and the more he wanted it.

"Oh your hair," Hermione had said when she answered his knock on the door. Harry had put his eyes and hair back to their typical colours, but he'd kept his scar hidden, and his hair long. He was quite fond of it long. It behaved and looked mostly neat when he brushed it. It was a nice a change and he liked the weight of having it loose down his back.

"It finally grew," he said jokingly awkwardly taking a good look at her. Her eyes were red and puffy and she looked like she hadn't had much sleep. He pulled her into a tight hug once she let him in. She held him tightly for a moment before pulling away and leading him into the house.

"Sorry for showing up unannounced, I was worried," he said as she led him into the living room.

She waved a hand dismissively, "they're not home, they won't care. I'm happy to have some company." She said tightly.

Harry looked around. The house was immaculate and seemed more like a display house than a home. The photos were all professionally done. There were framed diplomas on the walls as well as Hermione's Primary school graduation certificate. But it felt cold. Wooden. It reminded him of Privet Drive a little.

"You okay?" He asked when they'd sat down on to the couch.

She opened her mouth but shut it again. Her face crumpling and started to cry.

He wasn't sure what to do with a crying best-friend. After a moment, he cautiously put an arm around her. She turned her face into his shoulder and hugged him back as she sobbed.

Slowly she started telling him about the ball again. How it was lovely and brilliant, and how it had been everything she had never dared to dream of.

"We had such a nice chat about our schools, even if his headmaster was weirdly possessive. We danced together and had a lot of fun. He introduced me to some of his friends, and he taught me some Bulgarian. I can now say, Hello my name is Hermione. How are you? I'm well thank you." She told him sniffling.

He smiled at her, pleased she'd enjoyed it, but somewhat conflicted still about Krum. By the sounds of it, he was nice, but Harry couldn't get the mournful wails of the Fireball out of his mind. Krum had cursed her painfully, and her eggs had been killed because of it.

"I had to explain to him how to say my name properly," she went on laughing wetly.

"But then when we went for a walk outside, in the rose garden. It was so pretty, and full of real fairies! But stumbled across Ron. I was going to introduce them as I know he liked Victor. I figured if I could get Ron to soften up a bit, he'd not give us such a hard time. But he just called me a traitor." she went on, "he said I was fraternising with the enemy. It only got worse from there."

She sighed, and he transfigured a pebble from his bag into a handkerchief. Heroine smiled at that and blew her nose.

"He spoils everything," she said quietly, "Victor took offence and punched him. Then Ron hexed him. They were both dragged off by Professor Snape. Ron's in detention this week, and Victor is confined to the ship for the remainder of the break."

"S'not your fault." Harry said softly rubbing her back as she sniffled into his shoulder again.

"It is," she mumbled.

"No. It's not," he said firmly, but gently, "Ron's a dick and Krum was reacting to it. That's their choice. That's not your fault. Sure it's a bit chauvinistic of him to defend you. I know your more than capable of defending yourself, though maybe it's nice to have someone look after you?" He wondered, thinking briefly of Charlie after the dragon task and Bill after the ritual. Maybe Hermione would like having someone to look after her on occasion...

She nodded, "I can look after my self, but it was nice of him."

"Exactly, but it's not your fault." He continued, getting back to the point, "And if you can't see Krum right now, maybe write him a letter if your worried. You know you can use Hedwig any time, or maybe Dobby or Winky will take it over. It will be alright. I promise. And if it's not okay, then it's not the end."

She smiled wetly at that, and he said, "so what's really got you so upset? I find it difficult that to believe its just the ball, or a boy, that has you this upset a few days later?"

Hermione sniffled again and pressed her face into his shoulder. He jumped but wrapped his arm around her more tightly.

"It's mum and dad." She said quietly as if admitting a secret.

"I didn't really want to come home for Christmas. I get lonely, and it's awkward. We don't know what to do with each other. But they insisted we spend time together. So I organised it so I could go back to the ball and still spend the holidays with mum and dad.

I got home on Christmas morning after the ball. I took the knight bus pretty early. But they were working, an emergency came up. Yesterday I learnt from their secretary they only took Christmas and boxing day off. But they were called into work anyway!" She said sounding both angry and sad.

"What happened?" Harry asked, passing her another transfigured handkerchief.

"There was a crash, so Mum and Dad got called in to sew some poor sods face back together," she said crudely, "I get it. It was a horrible crash; did a real number on the poor fool's face. So they needed the best. That's mum and dad. But it was Christmas! And they'd insisted I'd be home for it and spend it with them. Then their not even here!

They got home really late on christmas day, I was already asleep and they were leaving as I got up! They didn't even notice my braces were gone! I knew this would happen! This always happens!" She said sounding slightly hysterical.

Harry squeezed her hand, then said, suddenly, "wait. I thought you said they were dentists?"

"They are," she said rolling her eyes. "They're oral and maxillofacial surgeons. They work with teeth but also with the face, mouth and jaw. It's highly specialised. And its just easier to say their dentists instead of having to explain what an oral and maxillofacial surgeon is."

"Wait they're those Grangers?" Harry asked, "they were in the paper a few times. My uncle was talking about them. Apparently their the best in the whole of the UK."

"Yep, that's them," Hermione huffed. "They are always being called in for things. I think I was an accident and they just kept me because that's what you did when you were married and successful, have a family, 2.5 kids. I don't think they actually wanted me though. I came along when they were just starting up their own practice, so they were gone all the time. It was all nannies and after school care and holiday programs. They're never really here. I think that's why they were pleased about Hogwarts. Gets me out of the way for 9 months of you year." She said bitterly.

"I know that feeling." Harry said with companionably, "at least yours were pleased you were a witch."

"Not really."

"what?" Harry asked

"They wanted me to be a dental surgeon like they were," she said, "take over the family business."

"Family sucks," Harry said with a great sigh resting his head on hers.

"Yes. It does," she said, "I love them, they're my parents. But they're not enough, and I'm never enough to make them love me, make them stay around. It doesn't matter how smart I am or how good my grades are. Their just too busy for me," she sniffled.

"Family is complicated," Harry said again.

"It is," she agreed.

"You are enough," Harry said after a long moment, "You. Are. Enough. And they don't have to be family. Their blood and related to you, you share DNA. But they don't have to be family." He said firmly.

"Family, true family," he went on, "is more than blood and shared DNA. It has to be. Because I don't want to be alone anymore. I want people at my back, I want family.

Family is those you trust, that has your back. Family love's you and cares for you unconditionally no matter what. Family is about heart. Not blood. Family is chosen, relatives are given. Mum is family. My Dad, the Dursley's? They're relatives. Like your mum and dad are by the sounds of it. You and me, we're family. Bill and Charlie are family, and Fred, George and Neville. You all walked out on your house, risking ridicule from your peers and relatives for me. That? That's family."

"Family," she said, nodding into his shoulder, mulling it over, "relatives and family."

"Tell me about your dad," she said quietly.

So he did. He told her about each painful thing. He was, however careful to leave out Snape's name, that was not his story to tell.

"You know who it is," she said. It was not a question, "who they picked on. You know. And it bothers you."

"Yes." He said, "please don't ask. It's not my story. It's bad enough that I know."

She looked torn between her curiosity and understanding for a moment, before she nodded, "I can respect that."

"I found mum's trunk though," he said, moving on to a more cheerful topic a short while later as they moved to the kitchen to have something to eat.

"Really?" She said after swallowing a mouthful of All Bran with a grimace.

"Yeah, it's brilliant. It has different compartments and even an apartment inside it! She was a genius."

"Really? show me!" she said eagerly, making him laugh.

"Dobby?" He called, "have you got a minute?"

Dobby popped in and looked around the blindingly clean muggle kitchen with a slightly horrified look on his face. As if a kitchen with nothing for him to do in, was a thing of horror.

"Dobby always has time for Master Harry Potter and Master Harry Potter's Grangy sir!"

Harry smiled, "could you bring my trunk here please Dobby? I wanted to show Hermione. It's at Morbid's in my room."

Dobby popped away with a bow and reappeared a moment later with Harry's trunk floating in front of him and set it down on the shiny tiled floor before popping away hurriedly, incase the overly clean kitchen was contagious.

Harry opened it up to the room compartment where he'd been sleeping. Hermione followed him down into the trunk and looked around with wide-eyed astonishment.

"Your mum made this?" She asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Harry said, grinning proudly, "she was taking the same subjects we are. She started off with one or two extra compartments before making it into a place to stay. She was working on making it into a tent before she died according to her notes. I want to finish it off, so it does change into a tent, but my arithmancy isn't good enough yet."

While she had a closer look at the books, Harry desided to have a closer look in the draws.

The first compartment of the trunk he had initially dismissed as mere nicknacks. But it turned out to be rather interesting, Avon his second look. There were thick bundles of letters, yellowed with age, tied together with a ribbon. Some of the letters were to his mum from his grandparents dating all the way back to her first-year. Sadly they stopping at some point early in her seventh year and he wondered what had happened.

There were a couple from his aunt, many from Sev but also from her friend Alice, who turned out to be dating a boy called Frank Longbottom! He wondered if they were Neville's parents. And wondered what had happened to them? He'd have to show the letters to Neville.

He fingered the letters carefully and put them aside and pulled out a stack of chocolate frog cards. Harry flipped through them, marvelling at how they hadn't hanged at all. She nearly had a whole set he thought, she was just missing Circe, Flamel and the Oracle of Delphi.

There were some well-thumbed paperbacks, some of which were by Chris D'lacy and Tolkien. They were so well-loved they were falling apart. There were also a few he'd never heard of that sounded interesting. One about dragon riders, and one about an impossible heist, that had something to do with crows and outcasts.

Next, he pulled out a bundle of papers, a blue potion, and a large jar of Gillyweed. How much of the stuff did his mother have? He peered closely at the potion vial, reading the label. 'Mermish' then in small text under that read, 'sold by a Laughing Skull's Language Apothecary #5 Hookturn Alley, Greater Nocturne'

He looked a the potion vail again, Mermish. His mother was going to learn Mermish through a potion, to be able to talk to the people in the lake. Now that would come in handy.

"Hey Hermione," he said excitedly, calling her over from where she'd been examining his mother's typewriter, "look at this! You can learn languages with potions! Mum was interested in the lake too! She'd been mapping it!"

Hermione darted over, a familiar curious gleam in her eye, "oh wow, I bet that will come in handy during the task! If they do kidnap people, they may get the Mer to hold them hostage. This way you'll be able to negotiate with them!" She said reading the label on the vial.

"Oh and look," she said, pointing to a tiny etching in the glass, "it's a stay-fresh vial. It will still be good." She tapped her wand to the label. It flew off and enlarged, allowing her to read the instructions written on the back.

"Take the first part (pail blue) every night for two weeks." She paused so Harry could riffle through the draw and pulled out a potions box. Opening it revealed phials and phials of potions. There were more blue Mermish ones inside.

"Then you take a second part of the potion which is dark blue and read a dictionary, the bigger, the better, in Mermish. It helps it settle in faster, as the potion completes the new neural-pathways in the brain. Though it says the dictionary is not compulsory (some languages don't have a dictionary or written form.) But it is advisable as it takes a few months to properly settle in otherwise." She read, "doing two languages at once is not advisable. Although, you can start another course after the dictionary stage while the first is sinking in..." She trailed off.

"I wonder if that store is still around?" She asked, "think of all the possibilities! I wouldn't mind learning Mermish too for going into the lake when it's warmer" She said, handing the phials back to Harry.

"I've been to Hookturn Alley, we can have a look," Harry said, looking over the papers. Hermione peered over his shoulder.

One was the instructions and history notes on the language potions and how they worked. Half of it went a little over their heads in complex potion theory, but part of it they understood. Enough to get the general idea of it anyway. The other set of papers were notes for his mother's plans to map the grounds and lake of Hogwarts, and notes on merpeople and references to books.

"Harry, this will be so useful in the task! We can be much better prepared now!" Hermione exclaimed carefully unfurling another parchment. Harry nodded, grinning and helped her hold it flat so they could look at it.

It was much bigger, bigger than the Marauders Map. But it had a detailed picture of the Hogwarts grounds, the lake, and the forbidden forest. It then had little plants and things annotated, like the Whomping Willow and how to get past it, the acromantula's nest and territory, where the centaurs main territory was, and which the trees that housed bowtruckles.

Harry looked at the potions boxes again. There were several courses of different languages in there; Latin, Ancient Greek and a thick almost gold potion only labelled, 'Runes.' But there was also French, Bulgarian, Japanese and Gaelic. Then there were some creature languages as well; the Mermish, Goblin, Giant and interestingly enough, Troll, Acromantula and Fairy.

Harry wondered why she had so many and hadn't used them. He looked closer at the lid of the box wondering if she'd hidden a letter or note in it. He cast a quick detection spell and a small drawer in the bass of the box slid out.

A letter.

"To my unborn child,

My love, you do not have a name yet, or even a gender, but I know you will one day be here and I fear for your future. I had gotten these language potions to use myself during my mastery. The proprietor of the shop is an old friend of Master Flitwick's. He gave me a good deal for 3 human languages and 3 non-human languages. I'd intended to travel the world and create wonderful things after my mastery, but I feel life has other plans for me now, and you, my love.

You were somewhat unexpected, love. But never unwanted; never that. So I was unable to take them myself. I fear I won't live long enough to see you grow up my love, and I can only pray to Hekate, that I survive long enough to meet you. And that you survive long enough to live a long and happy life. So I have left these. My trunk will stay here at Hogwarts in my quarters. Maybe one day it will find its way to you and help you.

I had wished to have some of these languages when I was in school. It's always good to have another language dear. You never know when you'll need it. The Latin potion, ancient Greek and French will be most useful at school, especially in your first few years if they make their way to you in time. So will the Gaelic, Hogwarts being in Scotland. Most spell work is done in Latin, with some Ancient Greek or French.

Understanding what you're casting helps enormously, especially when you are unfamiliar with a spell being thrown at you. Be careful and sensible with them, love. There should be dictionaries for those in with my other school books. Hopefully, one day I'll get a chance to use the Mermish, but if not, I hope you have better luck finding a dictionary for Mermish than I did. There should be dictionaries for the other languages in my bookshelves.

I also got Bulgarian and Japanese as there are magic schools in those countries and you never know when they might be needed. I admit I was a little indulgent when buying all of these...

Don't forget if you learn creature languages to drink some warm tea and honey afterwards. New creature languages can be harsh on the throat while you get accustomed to the muscularity of the sounds, the potions don't just change the neural-pathways but adjust some of the vocal muscles as well to accommodate.

Runes will probably not be needed until your 5th year, before then you don't really need to be fluent in any of the runic languages. I lucked out on this one. I was tossing up between a charms mastery or a joint runes and arithmancy one. I got a potion for that specifically. That's why it's so thick. It's not designed to teach the spoken ancient runic languages but to understand the reading and writing of them. So it actually contains quite a few different scripts and dialects. It will not take long to learn, but it will leave you with quite the headache after each dose. Thats the only downside. It does sound brilliantly useful, though. I am hoping it will help me finish this trunk project of mine.

Anyway, I hope you will never need this note. One day I hope we will sit and go through this and laugh before you go off to school little one. But I fear not.

I love you, my darling,

now and forever,

Mum"

Harry sat there looking stunned. His mother really had had a life. She'd had plans and a future, and that had been cut off. It seemed like a terrible tragedy all of a sudden for such a bright young life to be extinguished. He leaned into Hermione as he put the letter and the notes back into the box and placed it on the desk.

"Come with me to visit the shop?" He asked Hermione quietly, wanting to see the shop his mother had obviously been so excited about. She nodded, hand over her mouth, trying not to cry.

Pressing his eyes closed for a second, Harry took a deep breath and kept picking through the drawer. He found some divination things next, a tarot deck, ogham, runes, the Stones O'Leary.

His mother hadn't taken divination in school but seemed to have picked it up herself, later. She sounded very intuitive. Maybe she was some kind of seer, or if not a seer, perhaps she just knew things sometimes. Maybe she dabbled when she started having bad feelings before he was born. Hopefully, she'd have a book or notes on how to use them in her library. He'd never heard of the Stones O'Leary, and Professor Trelawney didn't teach rune stones or ogham.

"She was a potions genius," Hermione said and handed him a stack of tatty potion stained notebooks.

They seemed to be half of a linked pair... he recognised some of the writing as Professor Snape's. His stomach did a funny squeezing sensation at the thought of the man. They seemed to be an amalgamation of cooking recipes, potion recipes and experiment notes and spell crafting. Plus, he found several useful sounding spells written in it; Levicorpus and Liberacorpus, Muffliato, Langlock, Sectumsempra. Sectumsempta had been underlined by his mother with the side note of 'dangerous! Learn counter-spell, Vulnera Sanentur, first!'

There were also a couple of translation spells, and a spell used to neaten up handwriting and make it legible as well as oddly enough a toenail growing hex, Grandio Unguis.

Another notebook was a half-finished technomancy notebook.

"These are her notes for the typewriter!" Harry said, showing it to Hermione excitedly.

"She started with a muggle typewriter," Harry explained, skimming the notes, "and went on to add a backspace function, a spell check and a grammar check and even a dictation function! I didn't know it did that," he said peering at her little diagram, "ah, that's what those buttons are for," he mumbled.

"Oh look she was working on getting electronics to work around magic, phones and computers!" Hermione exclaimed.

"And a magical internet, but it wasn't finished yet," Harry said, "wouldn't it be great if we could finish that!"

Harry flipped through her notes of ideas on how to make it work and skimmed over experiments that had been tried and failed or had blown up.

Next, Hermione pulled out a Gringotts pouch but yelped when it zapped her, dropping it and shaking her red fingertips. When Harry cautiously picked it up from where she dropped it, it pricked his finger. It didn't zap him though and allowed him to then open it. It must have been a blood ward, like the one on his own Gringotts pouch. When he opened it curiously, they saw it had a couple of galleons, a handful of sickles in it along with a single knut, and a vault key.

"So that means you can get into her vault to access her will before your emancipated!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly.

"I think so," Harry said, turning the keys over in his hands, "I'll have to check with Rodgrip. We discussed it over letters during the term. She said that until my emancipation, I'd need blood and the key to get in. Mum's vault would not automatically become mine without the will before I reach my majority."

Hermione nodded and pulled out the last book in the drawer and opened it curiously.

"What is it?" He asked, peering over her shoulder.

"Animagi," Hermione said, "you didn't say your mum was an Animagus."

"I didn't think she was," Harry said, taking it from her gently, "anyway that's not her handwriting."

It was a ratty book, far less well cared for than all Lily's other books.

He flicked through a few pages and gaped, "this is the Marauders handwriting."

What was his mother doing with it?

The first entry explained the maunders plans to become animagi to help Mooney, and why they couldn't put their notes in the usual grimoire as Mooney would see it. So they had a separate one, to keep their project a surprise for him. Harry wondered why it wasn't password-protected like their grimoire. How did his mother get it? Had she meant to become one too?

He certainly wanted to learn the skill, "what do you say Hermione? Want to give it ago?" He asked, looking at her sneakily.

She grinned, "yes. Yes, I do, we could do it the five of us."

"And Luna," Harry said.

"And maybe your Slytherins too?" She suggested.

When he nodded, she said, "we should combine our little study groups, us and the Slytherins. We could team-up. I bet we'd learn more. And they've been really nice."

Harry nodded, "we can do more duelling with more of us. We should practice teaming up and doing mock battles and things. It could be fun."

"We'll have to do it in the Room of Requirement then, I think we'll run out of space for mock battles in the dungeon classroom they've been using."

Harry looked to see what else was left in the draw. A jewellery box, some muggle coins and notes, some postcards and another letter. He opened it up:

"My darling son,

I saw Madam Pomfrey today! She's the only one I trust at times such as these! She was kind enough to see me despite me no longer being a student. I didn't want to know your gender initially, I wanted a surprise. But now I'm so close to meeting you, I find myself impatient! So! I learnt today, you are to be a boy.

My baby boy, my son! I don't know what you'll be named yet! There are so many possibilities! But I can't wait to meet you. I'm thinking Hadrian, as its a nice-sounding name from my father's family. Evans too, as I will never really be a Potter.

I don't want you to forget your other roots. James will probably insist on something from his side too, though, probably after him. Maybe I can persuade him that Ilarion, would be better. I'm pretty sure there's one of them in his side somewhere, and it does sound nice. An excellent Latin name... Much better than naming you after him. The prat.

Anyway! I have a bad feeling about this. I 'left' this trunk behind with my old charms master just in case. I figured if everyone will forget and assume it is only a trunk of my old things, it will be safe. I have not prepared it especially for you, though. I prepared it for me, but have left it behind at Hogwarts until we can go back for it. But just in case, there is this letter. There will be things in your trust vault for you. They should be there for you for your first trip to school. But just in case...

Too many people are out for a piece of you.

We got told of a prophecy today. The old man will not tell us what it says, just that the dark lord knows it and he will come after us because of it. I argued and pleaded and threatened for hours for him to tell me, so I could keep you safe, so I could prepare you. But he would not budge. He said it wasn't safe for anyone else to know its contents.

How I hate that man! Playing with the lives of people as if they were pawns!

My friend told me the first half and begged me to run. He's overheard it and could not prevent it from being passed on. I wish I could. He told me the start of it, all he managed to overhear. And really if the dark lord already knows it, why didn't the old man tell me! It's potentially about my child! I have a right to know!

And with you unborn, and the world in the state it is, I was not able to go into the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry to check it.

He's sending us into hiding... I want to run. Run and leave the country and never look back if it means you might survive to grow old. He's coming after you. But James will have none of it.

But when you're older, go there yourself. Ask for the prophecy concerning you. It may still end up being the other child. My friend is also pregnant with a boy and also due at the end of July. They wouldn't tell me who it was, but I worked it out. I hope it's not you, I hope it's wrong. I feel horrible for hoping that burden is another's, especially poor Alice. But I'd do anything for you, my love. I'd die for you. I'd murder for you. I would condemn another innocent baby for you if I had to. But there is much out of my control at the moment, my love. There is little I can do.

The Department of Mysteries is bound to neutrality. They are bound to show it to you if asked. Destroy it my darling boy. Leave a fake in its place if you have to. He knows the start, but not all of it. Keep it from him if you can, the less he knows, the better. If he is not after the rest of it already he will soon be.

Learn Occlumency. Become an animagus. It could be the difference between slipping away and escaping and ended up dead. Stay safe my son, and know that I never stopped loving you. Not for a minute. You're my stars and moon, my whole world in this sorry lot that we have. I love you, darling. Always and forever. I will be watching over you, my love.

Never forget that.

I hope I get to meet you!

Mum."

END NOTES:

Her parent live in Kensington (because I said they did)

I also have invented some backstory and stuff for Hermione and her parents as JK didn't give us much so I invented some to suit me.

Underage magic is during the summer. It is not specifically state that its during the xmas holidays too. Lily came home and showed her parents magic petunia mentioned it in HPPS so harry doing magic in a muggle house at Christmas is not being looked at. (Because its more convenient for me that way)


	48. Chapter 48 Hermione in Nocturne

This time, after reading Lily's letter over Harry's shoulder, Hermione burst into tears and threw her arms around Harry, who for once didn't flinch but hugged her back just as tightly.

"Parents are so shit!" She exclaimed through her tears into the top of his head.

He nodded into her shoulder, his throat thick.

"Your's is so nice... and so loving and seems so perfect... and she's dead! This is so unfair! How could she be so perfect and not be here!?" she went on, "and then mine aren't dead but don't have any time for me... aren't interested and just don't bother with anything other than doing it for their image. They haven't even noticed my braces are gone!

Then there's your dad!" She fumed between sobbs, "Your dad should have been the perfect well-liked father! He's a renowned war hero! But really he's just an arsehole! Parents are really crap!" She finished sniffling.

Harry nodded his throat thick.

He suddenly didn't want to learn anything else about Lily Marie Evans-Potter. The more he learnt and got to know her, the more he missed her, the more it hurt. He wished he'd never dug into who she was and read her diary's, as now he had something to miss. Ignorance was sometimes bliss. They had a point when they said, be careful what you wish for.

Why the hell had she married James Potter? Hermione was right. Parents really were shit. Family was just not what it seemed. It seemed like everyone's family had a secret bad side. Neville's parents weren't around, though he didn't know why, he suspected they were dead. And his Gran terrified him.

Mrs Weasley seemed like a perfect mum. Loving and caring. But from the howler, she'd send Fred and George as well as the hints he'd got from Bill and Charlie; she wasn't so perfect.

Maybe he was better off alone...

"Oh Harry," Hermione said, hugging him tighter. He must have said that bit out loud, he thought, strangely okay with her continuing to hug him.

"Family is complicated; like you said. But family is more than blood," she went on. "You're not alone. Just like you said, I'm not. We have each other. You said we're family. That means you're stuck with me, like mouldy cheese!"

Harry snorted, wrinkling his nose, and hugged her back, "Thank's Hermione. Gods I'm tired, I'm not usually this much of a mess.

"It's fine. You've been under a lot of pressure lately and had lots of information thrown at you. You've been up all day, haven't you? If you're on nocturnal time, you stayed up to visit me instead of sleeping."

He nodded, then asked, "did I show you that letter from the WEA? I'm going to take all the OWLs and NEWTs there are!"

"What?" She said, wide-eyed. "There are more!? And they didn't tell us!?" She shrieked, practically snatching the letter out of his hand when he took it from his bag. He grinned as she read it furiously.

"You mean to tell me that there are more options! And they didn't tell me!" She practically screeched.

Harry winced, "Yep. I'm super tempted to try and take all of them, just to thumb my nose at all of them. I really want to, but I'm not sure I'll manage. But wouldn't it be great if we got straight Os in everything! Prove them all wrong, that I'm not stupid and that we're just as good as they are. That we're better."

"That would be good. That would make everyone who ever called me a stupid little know-it-all sorry!" She said with a vicious grin, "oh! I'm so mad they didn't tell us! We'll have so much work to do to catch up, Harry." She said, and Harry liked the way she automatically assumed they'd be in it together.

"I'll have to write us up a schedule," she said, planning things out in her head already.

She looked aimlessly at the still open drawer. "What we really need is a time turner. I wish I hadn't given mine back. Maybe we could nick it from McGonagall over the summer. I think the one I used was hers..."

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed in mock horror at the idea of his friend stealing from her favourite professor.

"What!? It's for learning! And if no one else is using it..." She said as she watched Harry rifle through the last few things in the drawer. He pulled out the muggle money, some photos of horses and some postcards.

"If we had a time-turner we could go back at the end of the day and redo extra hours." she said, thinking aloud. "We'd have to schedule in extra sleep time as well. That's where I went wrong last time. Not enough food and sleep. We'd need a separate space for studying when using the time turner too, so not to run into ourselves and we'd need to schedule everything very carefully..."

"I wonder how many of our study group would be interested in doing more, and maybe the Slytherins?" She asked, her mind still running like an out of control train, "I wonder how many people a time turner would take... but there's no point planning on one if we don't have one anyway."

"I think we do," Harry said in an odd voice.

"What?" Said Hermione, "What do you mean we have one?"

"Look," he said, handing her the jewellery box and pointing to a tiny velvet bag with an hourglass on it.

"No! It can't possibly be that simple!" she said her eyes wide.

Harry nodded mutely as she gently took the little velvet bag from the box and tipped the contents onto the palm of her hand.

A time turner. Very similar to the one she had used back in third-year. It was older looking, and silver, instead of gold. But other than that it looked like Hermione had, complete with a long chain. When she picked it up and pulled on the chain tentatively, it extended as her's had when she needed it to loop around Harry's neck too.

"Your mum had a time turner!" She said, beaming.

"She did," Harry echoed in awe, picking it up in gingerly as if it may break at any moment. He peered at it carefully. The little hourglass was surrounded by two rings with minuscule markings and runes scrawled along them. There was also a small dial on each ring, for spinning the time back.

"But I thought, she only took the subjects we're taking for OWLs," Hermione asked, "how did she get it? And why? And why is it still here? They are heavily regulated by the Ministry!"

"That's what I thought," Harry said, "I'll have to see if it's in her diary," he said, curiosity surfacing again.

"This means we can plan now! It will be much easier now!" Hermione said as Harry repacked the drawer.

"I'll make sure to schedule enough extra time for sleep and relaxing too this time." Hermione went on, "Which will be easier now that the time turner is not one from the Ministry that only had a set amount of hours available like mine did." She said waving her wand over the time turner and making it glow green, with some kind of detection charm.

They flopped down on Harry's bed together and looked at the wooden slats of the bunk above them.

"Harry," she said after a while when she was no longer hashing out a preliminary schedule in her mind.

"Mmm?" He replied.

"What happened at Gringotts?" She asked, "you gave me the highlights last time, and you've lost weight since you left school. Are you okay? What happened?"

So he told her. All the details of the first trip and the subsequent trips that he'd been too anxious to talk about before. And then he told her about the ritual and about the spells.

She sighed, "I might have to go to Gringotts myself to get checked over." She said thoughtfully, "before the Holidays end."

"You should," Harry said. Then after a moment, "why don't you come back to Nocturne with me? You're clearly not happy here and your parents are busy."

"What's it like?" She asked curiously.

"Brilliant!" He said before proceeding to tell her all about Nocturne Alley and the Hung Drawn 'n' Quarters inn and Madame Morbid. When he fell silent, she sighed and thought about it for a moment before climbing out of the trunk and going to the kitchen. He followed her out and watched her dial a number into the phone as if she'd done it many times before.

"Hi Polly, it's Hermione," she said without waiting to see who answered. She knew who would pick it up, "is mum or dad there?"

There was a pause, and she sighed, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly at him.

"No, that's okay. I expected as much... of course, I understand." She said in a somewhat strained voice, "can you let them know that I've had to go back to school early?"

Another pause, "thank's Polly, I appreciate it."

She hung up the phone and said, "let's go then," smiling for the first time. "I'll write them a quick note and pack my things. Then we can leave."

Harry grinned tiredly, "just like that? They'll be fine with just a note?" He asked curiously.

"Yes. They didn't want an owl to communicate with, and won't answer their phone, so they'll have to live with it. It's not as if they can do anything to me for it. I'm at Hogwarts most of the year and their general working for the rest."

"Don't you guys normally go on holidays overseas or something?" Harry asked.

She sighed, "France was for a conference dad and mum went to. I begged them to take me with them that time. They dropped me off in the wizarding quarter and left me to it most days. They picked me up in the evenings for dinner. Though, they did take an extra few days off for sightseeing. That did surprise me."

Harry sighed too and followed her up to her room.

Hermione's room was not quite as immaculately neat as the rest of the house, and it did feel far more lived-in. It was still very tidy. It had white walls and an elegant if impersonal blanket on the bed. The desk was white and had stacks of Hogwarts texts and other magic books on it, while the walls were covered in shelves and framed school awards.

Crookshanks was curled up on Hermione's Gryffindor pillow. Harry smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. Crookshanks stretched lazily and came padding over demanding scratches under his chin. Harry obliged the cat, who started purring.

Hermione looked speculatively around her room for a long moment before pulling her trunk out from under the bed. It was then that Harry noticed that it had three locks on it. She took off a hair tie from around her wrist and put one of the keys tied to it, into the second lock. The trunk opened to reveal, much like his own, a bookcase.

"Help put these in for me?"

"Sure," Harry said, placing a disgruntled Crookshanks back onto the bed again.

"Alphabetical? by Author?" He asked, knowingly.

She smiled at him, happy he knew her so well, "please. Just start at the next free shelf, I'll hand them to you in order."

"When did you get a new trunk?" He asked curiously, as Hermione handed him stack, after stack of muggle novels and non-fiction books. "I know you said you couldn't get all your books in it in second-year."

"This summer. They gave me money to spend on my birthday, as they didn't really know what to get me. So I got a trunk that fit more books. I miss my books when I'm at Hogwarts. Home is where the books are, and most of them are at Hogwarts anyway so I figured I may as well upgrade to a trunk I can keep all the important things in." She said, handing him another stack.

"So your relative's house isn't really home for you either?" He asked.

"Not really. I've known it for a while, especially since starting Hogwarts," she started, passing him another stack of books. "But this year really cemented it, especially the summer and now this. I hardly ever see my parents any more. And even when I'm home their usually at work. So, no, my home is Hogwarts, like yours is. I don't really belong here."

"I'm not saying I'll never come back," she said handing him the last lot, "but I'm not here much so if I'm leaving I may as well take the important things. I've missed my muggle novels."

She crossed to the desk and put the magic books in next before closing and locking the trunk. She then opened it again to the wardrobe compartment and started packing. Crookshanks padded back onto Harry's lap and demanded more scratches.

"Now," she said, "why don't you tell me what you are still avoiding saying about Gringotts. You told me nearly all of it this time. What did you leave out?"

Harry winced. She always knew him too well. So he told her. He told her about the Soul Shards; about the one in him, about not knowing how to get it out, and about the conversation he'd had with Rodgrip and Bill at Gringotts when accepting his heir rings.

"Dumbledore knew." He said finally, "he mentioned it after the chamber. He said that that night Voldemort put a bit of his power in me, that's why I'm a Parselmouth."

"But that's not true. You're a Slytherin, like your mum," Hermione said looking horrified and disgusted but took his hand reassuringly. Crookshanks meowed in protest at the loss of his chin scratches again.

"Your right," Harry said, "but he doesn't know that. You know what he's done. He wants me dead because I need to die to destroy the Soul Shard, and that needs to happen before Riddle can be stopped."

"Riddle wants to come back," Harry said quietly, "and he wants me. He'll want to start the war again. I don't want to fight a war, Hermione,"

"So we don't. We kids, still."

"There'll be no avoiding it though if he comes back," Harry said tiredly.

"So we prevent it. Because you're right, we both know we'll be dragged into the war if he comes back." She said matter of factly

"How, though? We're kids. We don't know anything about this!" He said feeling frustrated and overwhelmed.

"So we do the sensible thing," she said. "We tell an adult we trust. A competent one, that will listen this time. Not like McGonagall. It's an adult war. It's not our problem. It shouldn't be our problem. It's just a matter of who though." She paused thinking for a moment.

"Professer Flitwick maybe?" She asked uncertainly.

"He works for Dumbledore though," Harry said, thinking a long moment. "What about Bill and Charlie?"

"Yes." She said, "and maybe then Flitwick if we can prove he's not in Dumbledore pocket," she agreed.

Harry pulled his mirror out of his pocket and tapping it said, "Bill and Charlie."

"What's that?" Hermione asked, sitting down next to him on the bed.

"A communication mirror. Bill and Charlie gave it to me for Christmas, so I can talk to them," Harry said, smiling.

"Brilliant!" Hermione said as the image on the mirror blinked and shimmered.

Charlie was awake and said, "Hey, Harry!"

When Bill's image appeared on the glass as well, it was clear he had been asleep, and he rubbed his eyes and said, "Hey, this urgent?"

"Er..." Harry said, freezing, but Hermione just said, "Yes. It is." and shifted the mirror to show them both.

Bill lit his wand, sat up straiter and was instantly wide awake.

"What's up?" He asked, looking serious, "Hi Hermione."

"We need help, or at least advise. We've worked some stuff out, and it's freaking us out too be honest." Hermione said

"I told Hermione about the Soul Shard," Harry started.

"He probably has more than one Soul Shard," Hermione said suddenly, "why have one fall back if you can have lots, and he wants to come back."

Harry continued hurriedly, "if we can put off his coming back, we'll have time to prepare and time to stop him returning permanently. We just need to work out when it's going to happen and how he's going to come back so we can stop it. We don't want to fight in a war. And he'll make us."

"But we have some time. Time to figure it out so we can keep ourselves safe. We'll have to start digging." Hermione said, "we'll research; the Death Eaters, Riddle, and how to keep ourselves safe."

"War will come there's nothing we can do to stop it," Harry went on franticly, "so we need to be prepared. We need to know about Riddle and the last war. If we know the Death Eaters styles, and what they did, we can prepare to defend against them. If we know what he did to himself, we can try and prevent it and get more time for someone else to stop him."

"We need to find out how many Horcruxes there are, and get rid of them before he comes back, or comes back with multiples of himself running around! Who knows what he could do with that many pieces of his soul! He's probably got more than one. Does he have a house? Where did he live?" Hermione babbled

"If he's proud of Slytherin maybe he's got heirlooms or have hidden things in the slytherin properties? If so, the goblins will find them when they look at them for the audit and the ward inspection." Harry continued

"I'll warn Rodrip," said Bill. "Gringotts has already started the process of doing a bank-wide search and crackdown on broken regulations. They started it after the brack in back in your first year. If there's a soul shard there, they'll find it eventually and destroy it."

"I can't fight a war." Harry said, sounding exhausted and scared, "I've been fighting my whole life. I don't want to fight a war. And the only way I'll manage to avoid it is preventing it starting."

Before either brother could say anything else Harry bulldozed on, "but! I don't think he's going to kill me in the next task. He didn't in the last task, Riddle that is. He's behind it. He and his servant. He wants me; to use me or kill me himself, I don't know. But he's going to use this to get to me."

"So we'll need to figure out who his servent is at Hogwarts and stay away from them. History says it's the DADA teacher." Hermione said primly, "pitty we're actually learning from him."

"The map says Moody and Crouch hang out. There's something weird going on with them." Harry said, "and there's also Karkaroff and Professor Snape."

"It's not Severus," cut in Bill only to be bulldozed again by Hermione's anxious babble.

"So there really is a Moody," Hermione said, "the map doesn't lie, so crouch is involved too... Or is it Karkaroff? Because both Moody and Crouch are meant to be very anti-dark wizards. Karkaroff is really worried about something, he was talking to Professor Snape about it. You'd think if Moody was acting weird or up to something Dumbledore would notice. Moody is his friend. So its probably not him. Or Crouch. Crouch works for the Ministry."

"Wow, wow, wow," Bill cut in over the top of them all, "stop. Hold on a ticket. Your both exhausted and scared. I hear you. It's understandable. But you're not getting anywhere right now trying to problem solve."

"Plus you guys are kids still." added Charlie firmly, "you shouldn't have to do any of that. It's not your job to fight a war or to prepare or prevent one. If he comes back and starts a war, you shouldn't have to stay. You don't have to be involved. No-one can make you fight a war if you don't want to. You have a choice. Always. You have a safe haven here in Romania if you need it. Always."

"and Egypt," added in Bill.

"But what about everyone else?" Harry asked.

"You are not responsible for those around you, or for their actions. Reminded Bill gently, "It's not your job to save everyone. That's the conditioning remember Harry. Thats the old spell work talking. Its the job of the Ministry and the Aurors, to keep people safe."

"But Dumbledore-"

"Fuck Dumbledore," spat Charlie.

"He can rot it a hole for all I care." Bill said, "you ow them nothing. Your responsibility is to yourself." He continued, "this is years of conditioning and compulsion remnants speaking Harry. You're tired, don't take on the whole weight of a war that's not here yet, okay?"

Harry nodded and yawned, leaning against Hermione, still patting Crookshanks.

"Look, you two are exhausted." Charlie said, "You've been up all night and day now, Harry. Take some deep breaths, both of you, have a hot cup of tea, and get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning. your not in this alone. We'll talk about it again I promise. We'll sort something out. I have access to the library's here in Romania, in the city. They're less harsh on the dark arts and necromancy here so I may be able to figure out which ritual he'll use to come back with his soul shards. Then if he does drag you into it, you at least know what's going on. Bill and I will work on it."

"I'm in Alexandra once you go back to school." Bill said, "I'll be looking into soul shards and riddle anyway. Don't you worry about the Soul Shards, I'm on it. The library there is amazing. We'll sort it out."

Harry nodded, still feeling a little overwhelmed, and Hermione bumped her shoulder against his. He nodded, "thanks," he said in a small voice.

"Any time. I'm glad you called us," Charlie said.

Bill nodded, "You only have three hours before our lesson, you going to be okay?"

"Oh yes," chirped Hermione grinning wickedly, "we have time."

"I don't want to know," Bill said, shaking his head ruefully. "I know that look, that look says the twins are up to no good. Anyway, I'll see you at the usual time in the usual place, Harry. Are you're bringing Hermione?"

Harry nodded, "yes, please, if that's okay? She's been working on occlumency too, I've been teaching her."

"Brilliant, I'll see you both tomorrow. Get some sleep, try not to worry too much. Charlie's right, you not in this alone."

"Bill, call me if you need to in your lesson later," Charlie said

"Will do bro," Bill said, yawning again then stretching, "I'll see you later, Harry, Hermione."

They chorused goodbye, and as Harry was hanging up his half of the call he thought heard Charlie say, "you getting up now, Bill? Got another minute?" Before the mirror went black.

Hermione and Harry took the muggle bus back to London, so that if people were looking for Harry, they'd be less likely to find him. She wore his hooded cloak, so not to be recognised and Harry changed his apearence back to Hadrian's; long brown hair and hazel eyes. He happily showed Hermione how to get into the alley as Bill had shown him.

Hermione was just as fascinated with it as he had been and followed him through the twisting and turning alleyways to the Hung Drawn 'n' Quarters.

Despite it being very early by Nocturne standards, Morbid was up and didn't blink an eye when Harry said that Hermione would be staying and sharing his room.

"You'll be paying for meals thought lass, or working for them." Was all she said gesturing to the stairs.

"I can pay," Hermione said, following Harry up to his room.

Harry was just about ready to fall into his trunk and sleep for a week when they get back up to his room, but Hermione stopped him.

"We don't have much time before Bill's lesson, and you haven't slept yet." she said, "we'll go back a few hours, so you can get a proper nights rest, and I can have a short sleep so I can switch over to Nocturne time." She continued, pulling out the time turner and putting it around them both. Then, making sure he was watching her, she explained how it worked and moved it back four turns. Before pushing the dial in to set it in motion.

When the world had stopped spinning, Harry put it on under his shirt and enlarged the bed enough for them both to use it.

"I've been out of the room all day," he said, "so we won't run into our selves here. We were in the trunk. Even if it was at your place." He added.

"Good call," she said before flopping down next to him and pulling out a book. 

END NOTES

so I'm basically incapable of writing good parents, sorry Hermione

So with the communication mirrors - when harry called Bill and Charlie's mirrors it doesn't daisy chain them, it connected all three of them. So harry can hang up his side of the call leaving Bill and Charlie's connected, so they can keep chatting.

Why? because I said so thats why ?ￂﾠ


	49. Chapter 49 Bill, Charlie & Snape

Note: This was not what I expected. They ran away with my plot.

0o0o0o

After Harry and Hermione had ended their part of the mirror call, Bill tuned to Charlie, "so brother mine, what's up?"

Charlie laughed and said, "brother, if you're going to lie to an empath, and our Harry is a budding empath, you need to be a better liar.

"What did I lie to Harry about?" Bill said, dropping the socks he'd been putting on in surprise.

Charlie levelled a 'seriously?' glare at him, "your friendship with Professor Snape, perhaps?"

"What? No, I didn't, we _are _friends!" Bill said, picking up his socks again and starting to get dressed for the day (or night as it was soon to be in Nocturne.)

Charlie raised an eyebrow and made an expression that said, 'what do you take me for, a moron? I know what you're not saying!'

Bill huffed, "we're friends."

"You leaked feelings," Charlie said bluntly, "he picked up on it."

"Balls," Bill swore mildly.

"mmhm," Charlie hummed in agreement, "he's also worried about you. Snape's hurt him. He's worried. He'd probably be pissed off if Snape didn't scare him."

"Shit," Bill said, "he scares him? I didn't realise it had gotten that bad. Neither of them have said anything. Severus is so irrational when it comes to Harry! He won't listen reason about it or when I tell him to get him self checked over at Gringotts! The stubborn arsehole!" Bill muttered doing up his waistcoat, "He's not a bad man, you know. He's just screwed up at the moment and is in a tuff bind. He's irrational, especially about Harry. He's not always this bad, which is no excuse. But its more extreme than usual and it's weird, and he ignores it when I mention it and I'm worried," he finished with a huff.

"You're changing the subject," Charlie said, "but yes, I agree, and we've had this conversation before, we'll come back to it. You _like_ him."

"Of course I do, he's my friend!"

Charlie levelled another 'you're an idiot' expression at him and said, "that's not what I mean, and you know it."

"I'm not interested in liking anyone like that!" Bill said, hunting around for his hairbrush.

"William," Charlie said, levelling his bother with an 'I know you' look, "you're interested enough in blokes for the both of us, and we both know it. Don't pretend otherwise I'm pretty sure you got your dose, and my dose of sexual attraction," he said dryly.

Bill snorted, "I like sex," he said without a hint of shame, "and don't call me William." He snapped with no heat, and continued, "consensual no strings attached sex with other guys looking for the same thing is loads fun. I pick nice people; we have fun. It doesn't need to be complicated. Fun doesn't have to stop just because we're adults."

"And I'm glad you have fun, and even gladder that you never share the details," Charlie said, trying to hide his amused distaste.

Bill laughed, tying his ponytail.

There was a pause then a heavy sigh, as Bill said, "What do you want me to say, Charlie?" He asked, "I like Severus. He's my friend. But that's it."

"No, it's not. You're attracted to him," Charlie said bluntly.

Bill winced and flopped back down on his bed now he was fully dressed.

"Well yeah," he said, "I've attracted to a lot of people, Charlie. That doesn't mean I want a relationship, or even want sex with him."

Charlie frowned, a bit puzzled, "but you think he's attractive, and don't you normally want to have sex with the blokes you think are attractive? Isn't that what sexual attraction means? That you want sex?"

Bill trying very hard not to laugh said, "Yes. I generally do want to have sex with blokes I find attractive. And let's face it that's most of them; I'm not picky. Sex is fun. As long as they're nice blokes, and willing to have a good time with me without making things complicated, I'm all for it." Bill shrugged, "But I don't have sex with every attractive bloke I meet Charlie!"

"I know that," Charlie sputtered, "but, you _like_ Snape!"

"Yes, okay, I do. I like Severus." Bill admitted with frustration. "There's something about him that's interesting. He's wickedly smart, and he's sarcastic as hell. It's hilarious; especially when those things are used to verbally eviscerate someone else. And the man is fucking attractive. But just because he's really fucking hot, does not mean I'm going to sleep with him. He's a good pen friend, that's all. And that's all I'm looking for at the moment."

"You deserve to be happy and to have companionship." Charlie said gravely, "it's allowed. Companionship is important."

"Yeah, but I'm happy just being friends. That's all that's on the cards at the moment.

"Why, though?" Charlie asked puzzled, worry colouring his tone.

"Are you saying he's not interested? Have you asked? You're awesome. Why wouldn't he be interested in you?" Charlie said, offended on his brother's behalf.

Bill laughed at his brother's indignation, "I haven't, but I don't need to. The man's a mess at the moment. He has something weird going on with his magic, and he won't let me look or sort it out. I'm not as sensitive to people's magic you. So I can't work it out unless he lets me have a closer look, which he won't. He doesn't see that there's a problem. Says he'd know if his magic was wonky. And he won't go to Gringotts. He's under Dumbledores thumb, and I don't want anything to do with that old geezer. I don't want to make things harder for him with the old git either. Severus doesn't need me adding more to his plate than there already is. He is too busy for more than letters, hardly has time to catch up when I _am_ in town, even if he wants to. He has too much going on to add me to it."

Charlie looked at his brother sadly, "you don't have to be alone. You don't always have to put other people first, and their wellbeing first. You can ask for what you want. Don't think less of yourself, William."

"Don't call me that," Bill snapped irritably, "I hate being called William. I'm in Egypt half the time, and Dumbledore runs him ragged, what do you want me to do?" he added, but Charlie knew it was just an excuse.

"You're lonely Bill," Charlie said, "I don't want you lonely, and we're in different fucking countries. No dragons in Egypt and no cool curses in Romania. I hate you being miserable, especially when I'm not there to help fix it or hug you."

"I'm not Charlie," Bill said. "And you can't fix everything, or look after everyone; just like you told me. That's why we left home. It's not your job to fix it all."

"Right back at you, you arse." Charlie said, achingly fond, "you don't have to put the world first."

"I'd hug you if I was in the same country right now," Bill said, "but I'm not lonely or miserable. Really. I have you, even if it's across a few countries, and I have friends."

"You always were a social bunny," Charlie said, "but being around people doesn't mean you're not lonely," he said knowingly. "It's not the same as having a close friendship, close emotional bonds. I'm an introvert, and I see the need for it. And your way more people-y than me."

"I have you, and the twins, and Harry, and Severus. I have coworkers I don't hate. That's enough," Bill said, "I'm not lonely."

"Can't lie to an empath brother of mine. 'specially not one that taught you to lie. I know you're lonely. I know this because I see it in the mirror in the mornings, staring back at me."

He looked at his brother for a long moment, "you're holding this close to your chest. This thing with Snape. That's how I know it's important whatever it is."

"Never can lie to an empath," Bill echoed irritably.

"Nah, you leek feelings all over the place, even though a mirror." Charlie joked, "I know you."

Bill smiled, "yeah," he sighed and admited, "he's a good friend, even if he's fucking weird at the moment. It's driving me batty, and he's not listening! It was super subtle at first, and it didn't feel that different. It's been getting worse. But even then without spells to focus it all, I can't work out what's wrong!"

Bill let out a frustrated huff, yanking his hair tie out as he ran his hands through his hair.

"He's gone all silent these last few weeks." He huffed.

"Go visit." Charlie said, "You're in England. You're at Hogwarts once a week already. I bet he'll keep it a secret if you ask, or you can make a 'classified Gringotts business' excuse for being in England weekly. Have lunch, at least you can then check on him. Help him brew. You're decent at them. He'd probably appreciate it if he's that busy." Charlie reasoned back at Bill who was looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

"Talk to him, you idiot," Charlie said, running a frustrated hand through his hair, mirroring his brother without really realising.

"Your allowed nice things Bill. You deserve to have good people in your life, other than me. You're allowed to have real relationships with good dependable people. You're allowed want things for yourself and to not put other people first for a change. Christ, it's no wonder you get on with Harry so well." He flicked his own hair tie across the tent angrily.

"Like your one to talk," cut in Bill, with a rueful smile.

"Oh fuck off, Billiam! It takes one to know one." Charlie said, making Bill grin, "you deserve the world brother mine. Don't be afraid to go after it. Don't assume you'll fuck it up before you even try."

"Right back at you, Charlie-bear," Bill said, looking tired, "for someone who doesn't do people. You give good advice brother mine."

There was a pause, then Bill said, "so are you similarly not lonely then Charlie?"

Charlie looked young and vulnerable for a moment, "I have you and my dragons. And Tonks, and Harry and the twins. Like you said, what more could I want?"

"Yeah I know," Bill sighed heavily, fiddling with the ends of his hair to give his fingers something to do. "But someone just told me it was okay to be happy and want companionship?"

Charlie laughed humourlessly, "Not quite as simple as that when you kinda hate people and don't want sex. I'm happy with what I've got."

Bill just looked at him, and Charlie stared back before they both snorted humourlessly.

"Anyway," Charlie said, "before we get any more miserable did Fred and George tell you about the prank they pulled in their last letter?"

Bill laughed, "yes. I meant to talk to you about that. They didn't actually say why they were pranking their whole house this time. It was weird."

"Agreed. And to manage to get the support of the house-elves, Gryffindor must have done something _really_ stupid. So it probably was Harry's un-housing that the twins were pranking them for." Charlie said more seriously.

"Yeah..." Bill said, "they were oddly quiet about that. Just that Gryffindor had done something to Harry that they thought was unforgivable."

"You don't think they've been un-housed too do you? For sticking up for Harry?" Charlie asked, worried, "Harry said his friends had supported him, but not that anyone else was un-housed."

Bill paled, "yeah..." he said slowly, "yeah I do. Harry didn't mention it, and neither did the twins. But I think Fred and George supported Harry along with Hermione by the looks of it..."

"And Neville's been studying with them too," Charlie said slowly.

"I think they all got un-housed." Bill said, "they stuck up for Harry and all got un-housed for it."

"Fuck," Charlie swore. "We should have known, I wish they'd told us. Shit Mum's going to flip out at them, and it's probably too late to divert."

"Which means they've already gotten the Howler and didn't tell us. Balls!" Bill swore, "yes. And that's why they didn't tell us over the mirror but in a letter this time. We would have known something was up straight away and would have weaselled it out of them!"

"Shit," Charlie said, "shit. We gotta call them, make sure they're okay."

"They didn't want us to know," Bill said with a sad huff.

"Thought we'd be disappointed in them too," Charlie said sadly, "shit."

"I hate letting them down!" Bill said, angrily.

"Yeah," Charlie agreed tiredly, "hang on, I'll add them in," he said, pulling out his wand and tapping his mirror before saying, "Fred and George."


	50. Chapter 50 Hermione in Gringotts

Harry woke up the next morning, feeling remarkably awake and relaxed for having slept and let his guard down next to another person. He sat up and stretched, yawning.

"Morning," Hermione said chirpily. She was sitting on the other end of the bed, reading one of his politics books.

"I have to catch up a bit if we're to work together, on the new OWLs" she said far to brightly for that hour.

He smiled sleepily and got up, "let's go for a run; I'll show you around." He said, opening the window.

She grinned and put on some shoes.

Harry led her across the roof and down onto the streets. After her original hesitance at the how different the Alley was, Hermione, started to get used to it and seemed to enjoy it just as much as Harry. She started looking around and watching Nocturne wake up for the night with the same wide-eyed fascination Harry had.

Harry lead her through all the main alley ways breaking off from Nocturne Proper, showing her around. By the time they had retuned to the Hung Drawn 'n' Quarters Hermione was grinning.

"I'll take you on a run across the rooftops, tomorrow," Harry said to Hermione, as they headed upstairs, "it's brilliant as the sun's setting, and loads of fun. But I thought it might be a bit much for your first day."

After showers and breakfast, they met up with Bill in Harry's room.

"Sorry for waking you up, last night" Harry said in the way of greeting, "I got overwhelmed and panicked, I'm really sorry," He said, feeling a little ashamed.

Bill pulled him onto a hug and said, "Hey, don't worry about it kiddo. I'm glad you called."

Harry tightened his arms at the endearment and soaked up the offered warmth.

"You were right when you said it was urgent, Hermione." Bill continued as he turned to her.

Hermione who had been rather quiet until then grinned and shot Harry a 'see I told you so,' look and said, "so what's the plan? I was thinking that other than studying up on defence and duelling like Harry's been doing, we should also look into the Death Eaters themselves. That and the last war, what Riddle did and his history. If we can figure out what makes him tick, we can predict him, if we can't stop him coming back."

"That's a good call," Bill said, "but first and foremost, you guys need to focus on Harry surviving this year." He said, "Voldemort is not your job. No matter what anyone else tries to tell you. You have a choice. He's not your job, you're students. I won't do you the disservice, Harry, of saying you're a kid, but you're young is what we've been saying. You should not have to do any of this shit. We'll research it, you can research it, but your priority is getting through the year, staying safe and learning as much as you can. Okay?"

Harry felt something in his chest ease, and he nodded, "thanks," he said hoarsely hugging Bill again tightly. Bill's heart thudded comfortingly in his ear and Hermione beamed at how comfortable her friend was around her and Bill now. It was such an improvement from the start of the year.

"Now, Occlumency," Bill said to bring them back to the lesson, "You'll take it in turns practising offensively with me. I'll need to test Hermione but first, how far along are you, Harry?"

Harry sighed, letting go of Bill, "up to sorting stuff. Once you did the guided meditation, I found the place and could make it something. Or more accurately, it showed me what was already there, I think."

"That's great," Bill said, looking pleased. And Harry felt an odd sense of pride coil inside him. He was not used to being praised.

"How about you, Hermione, where are you up to?"

"I think I've found the place, I think, but I'm not sure." She said hesitantly.

"It seems to be an empty library with lots of boxes of books everywhere! It's been very shoddily organised!" She looked decidedly irritated.

Harry laughed and hugged his friend, making her smile again as she hugged him back. She liked this new free-er Harry.

"Okay, we can work on that." Bill said, "It sounds like your mind is naturally relatively organised; you just need to shape and fine-tune it."

Bill turned to Harry, "I'd like you to keep practising sorting memories at the moment while I test Hermione. Then we'll work on some defences and more exercises for that. The ones I gave you before will be easier and more effective now you can feel your magic."

"Okay," he said reluctantly.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, putting a hand on her friend's shoulder. It was a testament to how far he'd come that he didn't flinch this time.

"I don't like sorting them," he said with a shrug as if it was nothing. As if it didn't make him feel as small and alone as it did.

When they looked at him curiously, he continued with a sigh, "It's hard and tiring, and I don't want to see all of them again. Some I'd forgotten. Not obliviated just forgot. I don't always want to remember them. It was bad enough experiencing them the first time it happened; I don't want to do it again!"

"I know it can be hard," Bill said openly, "really I do."

"But it's important," Harry predicted, "know your self and your mind so you can defend it."

"Yeah, 'fraid so," Bill agreed.

"Also the first step to becoming an Animagi," Hermione said cheerily. "I started reading that book your mum nicked last night," she added by way of explanation, "I couldn't sleep."

Harry laughed.

"Well, it nearly is," she amended, "Know thy self to find thy animal." She quoted directly, "that and a mandrake leaf. For a whole month!"

Harry snorted.

"We're here for you, Harry," Bill said. "Me and Charlie."

"And me. And the twins too," Hermione said, "and Neville and Luna," she went, "and your Slytherins in their weird Slytherin-y way."

He snorted, "they're not my Slytherins."

"Either way," Bill said, cutting off the argument before it could properly begin, "we're here for you. If you need anything, talk to us. Me or Charlie at any time."

"And me," Hermione said, hugging Harry, "if you can put up with my crying about my family drama, I do the same for you."

He nodded, feeling a bit better and sank into his mind, feeling braver than before.

"So, what are you working on at the moment? Bill asked turning to Hermione after putting a silencing spell around Harry, so not to disturb him.

"Working on the mind place." She said, "I've been practising the exercises you gave Harry. He's been teaching me what you taught him, but we're not so good with the Legilimency/Occlumency thing yet."

"Right, I'll test you first then, and we'll go from there," Bill said, pulling out his wand.

She nodded gamely, despite looking a bit hesitant.

"I'll be gentle, I promise and I will keep your secrets." He said earnestly.

She nodded and said, "Harry trust's you. That's enough for me. Give me a minute to clear my head then you're good to go," she said, closing her eyes for a moment.

When she opened them again, he started.

Hermione couldn't feel other magic, only her own. So she wasn't able to have the warning of sensing him coming as Harry did. It took her a few goes before she could feel Bill's legilimency at all, other than seeing memories play before her eyes. But once she did, she got good at pushing him out, rather swiftly. Her mind, Bill explained, didn't have the damage Harry's had.

They practice for a bit, and Bill took her through some more exercises to help her organise her mind, and start building defences. She was good at clearing her mind and compartmentalising. Sorting and shelving all the 'books' in her mind, (her memories) while at times unpleasant, would not be that difficult for the highly organised Hermione. It was just building defences and maintaining them that she found daunting.

"Will you consider continuing to practise with Harry?" Bill asked, "he's learning Legilimency too. He could help you practice when your back at school.

She nodded, "that's what we've been doing."

He set her practising and then roused Harry, who was looking pale and drawn but okay. Bill held his arms out, in an offer, and Harry dove straight into them before they got started practising.

After occlumency, they revised detection spells, wards and some hexes and counter curses. Bill quizzed them in politics, culture and etiquette. He was pleased by Harry's progress and how much Hermione seemed to have picked up by helping Harry.

"We revise things together on our morning runs," Hermione explained.

"We want to take all the OWLs," Harry hesitantly admitted as if he expected to be told he was an idiot.

"Wow," Bill said, "when you say all, do you mean the Hogwarts 12 or..?"

"All of them," Hermione said, "the ministry ones too."

"Wow, that's an amazing thing to aim for. You'll have a lot of work to do, but you've made amazing progress, Harry, if anyone can manage it, I'm sure it's you two."

Bill was rewarded for his faith with two beaming smiles, "I have to ask though" he said, "do you have a time-turner? I had one for my classes; I took the Hogwarts 12 and a couple of others, but not all of them. I wouldn't have managed as many NEWTs without one."

They looked at each other for a moment, then, "the school didn't give us one. They don't know about any of this." Harry said.

"I had one in third-year but didn't manage it well," Hermione said

"Yeah there's a trick to it," Bill said, "but if your doing it without it will be a lot harder. And it will take alot longer. Don't be surprised if you don't get all the OWLs you want done before the end of fifth-year."

"Mum has one," Harry said slowly, "had one. I don't know how she got it, she wasn't using it at school for her owls, but we're using hers," he said pulling it out of his shirt to show Bill.

"ahh," Bill said, peering at it, "nice, may i?" He asked holding a hand out.

When Harry nodded, Bill took it from him carefully and cast some spells on it. He explained each of them as he did it so. He was good at teaching, Harry thought, wondering if it was from having so many siblings to help out. Maybe he'd helped his siblings with their letters and homework when they were growing up. Harry felt a stab of painful longing, at the thought of having had someone like Bill growing up, or having anyone at all.

"Well, it's all in good working order. Ours, when I my did OWLS, at first did 5 hours tops. And that was once we took off the ministry restriction and monitoring charm. Normally when they give out time turners, they only allow you to have a certain amount of hours. We broke ours to access more hours. The Ministry only gives you access to enough for the extra classes, not for the extra studying rest they require." Bill explained

"We got 12 hours out of it eventually. This one's older though, so it will go back a full day. The older models did that before Croakers law's restricted time travel to 5 hours. It looks like your mum has already removed that restriction charm. You have leeway with it, but don't get it to do more than one day. It won't like it, and the consequences can be very nasty," he said gravely.

They both nodded.

"We've read about Croaker and his law," said Harry. "His first one stated that the furthest someone could go back in time without the possibility of serious harm to the traveller or time itself is 24 hours."

"He then updated it to five hours," Hermione said, "as a precaution, as it's easier to mess this up with more hours."

"And the Ministry doesn't want people playing with time. We read about Eloise Mintumble too," Harry finished, "We understand the consequences; we won't mess around with it."

"Just had to check you were aware of the dangers." Bill said, "you're old enough to make your own choices so I won't tell you what not to do, but I wanted to check you were informed.

Harry appreciated that.

"Now here's how I managed with it," Bill went on.

"I had an official one. And 'broke' the hour monitoring charm 'accidentally.' I shifted it, so it didn't report back or alert the Ministry to the hours I'd used," he grinned. "Better to render the monitoring charm useless than to have removed, which would have alerted the Ministry."

"Charlie and I both used it. He wasn't considered academic enough. He was more outdoorsy than me and doesn't test well. So they wouldn't let him have one to do extra ministry OWL classes. So we both used mine.

We went back at the end of the school day and re-did it to have more time to do the extra classes. But the trick was to have somewhere else to study in, only when your back in time. It then removes the risk of time issues, like running into yourselves and being seen. Also, you want extra food and extra sleep time. You're essentially pulling a lot of all-nighters by adding extra hours to your day. So make sure you give yourself extra time to rest. We did an extra half day on weekends for a break and to sleep. That and Charlie spent lots of time dragging me through the forest.

"That's what we planned," Hermione said, "that's why I struggled so badly last time. I was just adding extra hours for classes but not for eating, sleeping, doing the extra homework or studying."

Harry pulled out his planner from his bag to show him the schedule they already had.

"Nice," Bill said appraisingly.

"We're working with the Slytherin's who also are doing extras classes. We haven't told them about the time turner, though." Harry said, "we haven't finished adapting our schedule yet, we only brainstormed it last night."

"Well, if you need help or advice, let me or Charlie know. We've been there before," Bill said.

"Fred and George are doing a few extras too," Harry said.

"Alchemy, Runes and Arithmancy unofficially," Hermione said.

"yeah, like Charlie, they're not too keen on the exams and academia. But don't let it fool you. Their wickedly smart and know their stuff so you can ask them too if you need help." Bill said, with a proud smile.

"Yeah, they're part of our study group," said Harry "they lent us some good books for alchemy. The library doesn't have any."

"Really? They used to have loads," Bill said surprised.

"I think they removed than for the Philosophers Stone in our first year and never put them back," Harry said disapprovingly.

Hermione made a face.

Bill took them to one of his favourite street vendor's for lunch. He introduced them to a few of his favourite goblin dishes. And Harry now understood what Rodgrip has said about goblin food being different.

For a start, there was a lot of meat. Some of which was green or other odd colours. A lot of it was raw or very rare, though some other dishes had root vegetables as well. Many of the smells and flavours were very intense in goblin cuisine.

Bill had to steer them away from certain things that would make humans sick. But overall, once Harry got over how incredibly spicy goblin food was, it was delicious. As long as he didn't think too hard about what meat it was. They ended up sitting down to eat in the town square at the end of Nocturne Proper.

They followed Bill to Gringotts after lunch but parted in the foyer. Bill disappeared through one of the side doors marked in goblin runes that Harry couldn't read yet. Harry expected that it probably said employers entrance or something similar. Harry and Hermione lined up to see one of the tellers.

"Wait for them to speak first," Harry reminded Hermione as they got closer to the teller.

"I'd almost forgot," she said, "make eye contact, but don't speak until they do first."

"Yes," harry said," and haggle, if the opportunity arises," he added.

"Really?" She asked, surprised. It had not been in the book.

"Yes," Harry said, "it's a matter of honour, of getting the best deal and not being weak," he explained, "be ruthless about it, they'll be much happier if you do."

Hermione nodded as they approached the front of the line. The teller looked at them but said nothing expecting them to start talking immediately like most wizards did.

Hermione and Harry said nothing, though Harry felt a sharp smile sneak onto his face. The Goblin realised what they were doing and grinned viciously before clamping his mouth shut firmly; testing them. Hermione bit her lip to stop herself saying anything but met his gaze determinedly.

Eventually, the Goblin nodded and said, "well-met Witch, Wizard."

"Well met Master Teller," Hermione said as Harry offered a proper goblin bow of greeting, that he'd learnt from Bill.

"What can Gringotts do for you today?" The Goblin asked.

"I need a check done, for magic on me," Hermione started, "I'd also like to open a vault."

The Goblin let out a word in Goblin tounge and a young-looking goblin came running.

"Escort the witch to Gripshard's office," the teller ordered.

The young Goblin made that same solute Harry had seen Bill make before leading them out of the main hall.

They did not go to the same place as Rodgrip's office, Harry noted, but ended up in a similar-looking corridor at a similar-looking office door. The Goblin knocked, and when bid to enter opened the door and departed.

Hermione looked at Harry startled, but Harry nodded, and entered the room, offering a bow. They said nothing, meeting Gripshard's eye. Hermione taking her cue from Harry, who'd had more experience with goblins, mimicked his bow.

"Well met humans, take your hood off please Miss Granger," Gripshard ordered.

"Well met Master Gripshard," they chorused, as Hermione put the hood down. She looked slightly startled that he knew her name but said nothing.

"What can Gringotts do for you today, Mr Peverell? Miss Granger?" the Goblin said. Harry smiled at the use of his proper name, and gestured to Hermione, and wondered how the Goblin knew.

Hermione spoke up, "I wish to open a vault, but most importantly, I have magic on me that is controlling me. I would like that removed the way Gringotts has done for my friend."

The Goblin rummaged in his desk for a moment then passed over a quill and parchment. Remembering Harry telling her about this, Hermione wrote her full name on a piece parchment.

"Hermione Jean Granger

Born: 19th September 1983

Age: 15 years, three months, nine days

Currently under spells

Currently under potions

Vows applicable

Health: fair

Paternal inheritance:

None

Maternal Inheritance:

None

Magical guardian:

Minerva McGonagall - 1st September 1995

Muggle guardian:

Dr Jean Smith-Granger & Dr John Granger 1984."

Ripshard handed her a knife and Hermione pricked her finger and dabbed the blood onto the goblins thumb, and forefinger like Harry had explained. The Goblin seemed pleased that she hadn't questioned the process. He then touched a bloody finger to Hermione's forehead, chanted something in Goblin tongue before making an odd pinching motion with his long fingers.

Harry watched the process curiously. He wondered if Hermione could feel it. She had an odd expression on her face, surprised and mildly disturbed but not in pain he didn't think.

Ripshard slowly withdrew his pinched fingers, the wispy see-through thing following. He touched another quill to the substance. Hermione watched interestedly as the quill absorbed the wispy substance and then started writing on another piece of parchment.

The Goblin then repeated the process with yet another quill, then waved a hand, making all the parchments duplicate. He looked ever one, before handing the other to Hermione.

"Spell test of Hermione Jean Granger

Trait Amplification charms:

3rd November 1995 (aged 11)

Traits amplified:

Belief in own superior intelligence

Need for approval

Respect for authority

Renewed 1st September 1997 (aged 13)

Caster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Status: Mostly Degraded

Compulsion Charms:

3rd November 1995 (aged 11)

Minor Compulsion to solve mysteries

Minor Compulsion to be nosy

Renewed 1st September 1997 (aged 13)

Caster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Status: Partially Degraded

3rd November 1995 (aged 11)

Compulsion to Obey

Renewed 1st September 1997 (aged 13)

Caster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Status: Broken

Blocks:

None

Recommended:

Cleansing."

"Potion test of Hermione Jean Granger

Complex manipulation potions of compulsion class:

Loyalty potion

Keyed to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Antidotes recommended."

"Contracts, Vows and Debts tied to one Hermione Jean Granger

Owed Life debt:

Hadrien Evans Peverell - Fulfilled

Received Life Debt:

Sirius Orion Black"

Hermione didn't say anything for a while, just stared at the parchments in front of her. Then she thrust them at Harry.

"I need a second copy, please," she said sharply, "for Master Rodgrip."

Harry looked at her and made a 'you okay?' face.

Hermione shrugged as Ripshard said, "Master Rodgrip, will receive one" He tapped the document which multiplied then vanished.

As she was about to ask another question, there was a knock on the door.

Ripshard barked something out in Goblin, and a witch entered the room, not even looking twice at Harry and Hermione, to Harry's relief. Whatever told the goblins who they were, despite Harry having changed his appearance, it did not seem to do the same thing for the witch.

"Cursebreaker Marsh," Ripshard said in greeting, after a slight pause, "this witch requires your services." He said, handing over the results.

The women read it for a moment before turning to Hermione and gesturing her to stand up.

"It won't hurt, but it may feel odd," she said in a heavy Irish accent before casting a long, complicated chant-like spell while circling Hermione.

Harry could feel the women's magic surrounding Hermione, pulling at her own, coaxing... then nothing.

Cursebreaker Marsh then turned and departed as another goblin knocked on the door.

This Goblin handed a potion to Ripshard and left without even a word.

"Here," Ripshard said, handing the potion to Hermione.

"The antidote?" She asked.

The Goblin gave a short sharp jerk of the head in response. She drowned it, then shivered, before handing the phial back.

"Your urine will be purple for a few days as the nullified potion works its way out of your system," Ripshard warned.

Hermione frowned momentarily, then nodded.

"How do you feel?" Asked Harry worriedly.

"The same, a bit nauseous but it's leaving now," Hermione said.

Ripshard nodded sharply, handed the quill over again, and Hermione diligently wrote her name as the test was repeated.

"Clear," the Goblin soon proclaimed.

Hermione beamed.

"Now to discuss your new vault," Ripshard said with a vicious grin.

NOTE:

Also I've bent croakers law of time travel, from 5 hours, as it was inconvenient.


	51. Chapter 51 The Lily-Pad

Twenty minutes later, Harry and Hermione left Ripshard's office after Hermione had haggled lower vault fees and lower curse-breaking fees for Gringotts services. Both Hermione and Ripshard seemed inordinately pleased by their agreement. Hermione even managed to organise automatic transfers from the muggle account her parents set up for her in Barleys into her new Gringotts vault.

She was the proud new owner of vault #3125 along with a similarly warded Gringotts pouch and her key on a necklace like Harry's was.

They went to Rodgrip's office next.

"I have mum's vault key," Harry said after greetings were out of the way, "does this mean I can go see her vault now?"

"Yes," Rodgrip said without any preamble, "if the key didn't burn you, then yes. The vault alone, would not have let you in, even with blood, but with the key as well it will let you in."

The ride with Griphook down to the vault felt excruciatingly slow. Even if the Gringotts cart went so fast, it made Hermione bite back a scream and hold onto Harry so tightly her knuckles are white. She'd never had reason to be in a Gringotts cart before.

Griphook opened the vault door with the key and Harry's blood. It seemed to take much too long for the door to swing open. The vault was smaller than his own and did not have a lot of it. There was enough gold that he could probably rent a room at Morbid's over the summer and feed himself, he suspected. There was a pile of paperwork, that when Harry flicked through it and found two things, a stack of paperwork and the deeds to The Lilypad - 5/23 Snaggletooth Lane, Nocturne Alley.

Harry was somewhat surprised by the tiny feeling of relief in seeing the address. He knew that apartment block. It was not too far from the Hung Drawn n Quarters in the creature district. The area was full of interesting people too. He like the feel of it, and how rich its magic and culture felt, how Darke it felt.

He wondered where the key to the apartment was... He flipped the deed over and frowned a the ink sketch of the key. It felt faintly of magic. He tapped it with a finger, pushing a tiny amount of magic into it. He couldn't use his wand here.

The key popped out of the paper and into his hand. It was an old-fashioned looking skeleton key with a long shaft. It was made of iron and rather ordinary looking. He grinned and tucked it into his Gringotts pouch.

He flipped through the other papers; her OWL and NEWT certificates. She'd done a fair number of them, the Hogwarts 11 (she'd skipped divination,) along with some others at the Ministry.

Then there was also her graduation certificate, her marriage certificate and the prenuptial agreement, her birth certificate, his birth certificate, his baby heath records of all his shots, legal documents in regards to her inheritance from her parents and privet drive, and finally her will.

"I, Lily Marie Evans-Potter, do so declare this my last will and testament, all other documents before this, are henceforth declared null and void.

Firstly our secret keeper is Peter Pettigrew, if we are dead or found, it is because of him.

Secondly, I leave all my worldly positions to my most beloved son Hadrian.

My trunk is in my Apprenticeship rooms at Hogwarts; Master Flitwick should be able to get it for you, Hadrian, when you're in school.

My bag is in your trust vault for your 11th birthday, before school.

My flat in Nocturne is shut down at present but should be passed over to my son on his 17th birthday. No child should have to live alone before then, and I plan to have left you with suitable guardians.

If I should die, I leave his care to the following:

Severus Snape; my brother in all but blood and most dearest friend, know this, it was not your fault. You fought so hard for so long, if I'm gone, take Harry and run. Find somewhere safe, somewhere you can both be happy.

If Sev is not able to look after him, then Master Filius Flitwick, my charms master and favourite professor. Thank you for everything, please look after my son as well as you have me.

If neither of those people is able, then the following (whoever may survive this accursed war):

Alice Longbottom (nee Fawley)

Marlene McKinnon

Mary Macdonald

Fabian & Gideon Prewett

Under no circumstances is he to be looked after by James Potter, Albus 'to many names' Dumbledore or my sister Petunia Anne Dursley nee Evans.

And so help me Hekate, I will come back and haunt your smelly arses if any of those incompetent dunderheads come anywhere near my baby boy!

To my darling son, I love you more than anything, and if I'm not there to see you grow, know that I love you. And I have left you all I can. It is not for lack of love that I have been parted from you.

Signed Lily Marie Evans-Potter

Witness: Will Master Gaplock"

Harry starred at the age-browned bloody thumbprint next to his mother's name. It felt faintly of her magic and smelt ever so faintly of roses.

He traced her signature with a finger. Why she had not left anything in her Potter vault, and why it had been closed? Why had she kept everything separate? Not that he blamed her. It all pointed to her, not like or trusting his father. Did he really have to call that man his father?

He put the papers in his bag and looked through the rest of the things, some muggle money, a copy of Moste Potente Potions. It was a second edition, as opposed to the 28th edition in the library. It had just about every potion under the sun, the legal and illegal, in it. The second edition for that reason was both sought after and very hard to find.

There was also a full set of Scribequill's books. A ritual book, a book on old magic, on pagan magic and on Darke customs. There was an interesting book called, 'Useful Spells & Rituals That Are Now Illegal, That The Ministry Doesn't Want You Knowing.'

Then there was another called, 'Cleansing Rituals to Undo Spells, Potions & Other Magics That The Ministry Don't Want You Knowing.'

How useful that would have been before he thought sardonically.

Another book was in parseltongue and was heavily annotated. His mother had been a Parselmouth. It wasn't from Riddle. There was then a very early edition of Hogwarts a History which dedicated at least seven chapters to each of the founders. There were more books on blood magic, and the Harke and Hekate, books she would have been arrested for owning.

"I really need to read the rest of her diaries," he said, standing up, "there's so much I don't know."

Hermione helped him put Lily's things in his bag but left the muggle money.

He was quiet on the way back to Rodgrips office.

"Rodgrip?" He asked the goblin, "do you know why she did not put her things in her Potter vault?"

"She did not have a Potter Vault," the goblin said sharply. It was set up in her name automatically when they married, but a key was never issued, so she never had access to it. She should have but did not. Despite being the wife of Lord Potter, she was given very little power over the Potter affairs, or over her own affairs as Lady Potter. It was almost as if they were not married at all." The goblin replied.

Harry frowned, "why was her half of Privet Drive listed on the Potter things things then but not her flat?" He asked, "can we get back mum's half of the inheritance that baught Privet Brive?"

"Your father was trying to at one point. That is how it got listed in his family accounts. He was going through the Ministry and the muggle government to try and get half the house back for Lily, but he stopped."

"The Ministry never get anything done." Harry huffed, "why did he not go through you?"

"He did not like dealing with Goblins," Rodgrip said causing Harry to frown and let out a gusty sigh.

"I want mum's half of the inheritance returned, either they sell the place and I get half or they pay me for my half of the house. And I'd like back-rent from Dursley's as they are living in my half of house. The proceeds all go into mum's vault. I'd like to start using that as my main vault, as Dumbledore doesn't know about it. When we have the basilisk sold, the proceeds will go there too. I'll need my Gringotts pouch tied to it as well." Harry said firmly.

Rodgrip grinned savagely, and said, "plans shall be made, to put into play once you are emancipated. We cannot act before then."

"So I am still without a home," Harry huffed, "for all your care and planning mum, that one backfired on us both," he said.

"The flat should let you in, but technically it's not yours until your 17th. Gringotts warded it for her when she purchased it. It won't let you dwell there until it's yours." He said, answering Harry's unasked question.

Harry sighed.

After they left Gringotts, Hermione and Harry headed across Nocturne to Lily's flat. They explored a little on the way, wandering in and out of a few shops. They got sidetracked in a junk shop selling all sorts of interesting things, including an interesting pair of hair scissors that Hermione bought Harry.

Harry protest at her buying them for him, but she silenced him with a look.

"You can grow your hair at will, but you'll need to cut it as you haven't managed to learn to shrink it yet," she said. "This will make it easier, as they'll do it for you. Just will them to do what you want!" she continued, "besides, you're can now cut my hair and when it needs a trim."

Harry snorted, but said, "yeah okay. I guess we'll have to practice using them on my hair then, as I can re-grow it if we screw it up."

Hermione also bought an old book on the history of Nocturne that proved to be very interesting. And a good distraction for her, when Harry chose to pick a few pockets then himself. He wanted to check he still had the skill. He managed to scrounge enough coin to both pay Dobby and buy his own socks, scarf, hat and really warm gloves. Not much, but it was a start.

The Lily Pad was easy to find in Snaggletooth. The apartment block was old and creepy looking, but was clean and warm looking if a bit dark.

The door took the key no problem but didn't unlock until Harry pressed his magic and blood into it.

The flat itself was small and set up much like her trunk. It had an open kitchen living room and study area looking out over Nocturne. One door led to a small bathroom, and this time there was another door leading to two tiny bedrooms.

There were more plants in here too, and a tank, and a cat tree. There were no other signs of animals, but at least the plants looked to be in status, so they hadn't died like those in the trunk.

Unlike the trunk, however, which seemed to have been neatly packed, this place had a cluttered chaotically messy feel to it. It was clean, but there were things everywhere. His mother was clearly not a naturally neat person despite being rather organised. How odd.

Harry never would have known this if he hadn't been able to see her space. It looked like she had every intention of coming back to the apartment.

The apartment though small was not without signs of personality or inhabitance. There were ink sketches on the wall, photos, awards, some essays on the fridge (really just a pantry charmed to be cold.)

Harry spent a long time looking at his mother's sketches. She really was rather good he thought, and he spent a moment envying her fine motor control, somewhat wistfully. Before he remembered that now he was healed, he could use his hands properly again and probably could achieve that level of fine motor control too! If he worked on it.

There was a bookcase against the wall stuffed to the brim of books and cauldrons and things in jars. How many books did his mother have?

Harry snagged two interesting looking books:

"Magical Concealment & Disguises" and "Magical Concealment & Warding For Those On The Run." He was hoping they'd help him work out Moody's eye and how to stop it seeing through his clothes and invisibility cloak.

When he looked closely at the spice rack in the kitchen, he was amused to find just as many potion ingredients (the non-edible kind too) as there were spices! The bench too was stacked with cookbooks, and jars of food and clean dishes not yet put away. And oddly enough a box of seeds and a rack of seedlings. The cupboards had photos and notes stuck to them. Many of which featured Lily and Sev, and some of which had people Harry didn't recognise.

The kitchen table was wooden and had signs of use, potion stains, and burn marks. Harry ran a hand over it imagining his mother doing the same thing after wiping up a spilled potion.

There were cauldrons and jars, and half-full potion vials, covering one end of the table. Knives and brewing mats were laid out along with sheets of notes, and stacks of books with annotations and bookmarks. Pens and pots of ink and quills lay smattered all around as well.

The couch in the living room had blankets and cushions draped over it, and there were more books in stacks on it as well as the coffee table. That also had several boxes of tea, more small cauldrons and some mugs puled haphazardly on a stack of history books.

They spent the afternoon poking about and getting to know his mum. It was a nice way to spend the afternoon, if slightly bittersweet.

Harry and Hermione made it back just in time for Harry to start his shift the kitchens before dinner. Hermione didn't need the money; her parents were well off and they gave her a generous allowance to make up for never being around. An allowance she'd now set up to go automatically into her Gringotts vault. But she was just as eager to learn different creature cuisines and about Nocturne culture as Harry was.

So they were both set to work in the kitchens, prepping for the dinner rush. Then they alternate between working the bar and waiting on tables. The regulars were wary around Hermione first, but she was polite and once they saw that and that she was with Harry, (Hadrian in Nocturne) they started to relax slightly, especially when she used the old courtesies.

Harry was restocking the shelves behind the bar at the end of the night when he learnt another interesting titbit from a born werewolf called Frederic about the Darke. He'd been picking up all sorts of good things while at the Hung Drawn' n' Quarters.

As it turned out, lycanthropy could be inherited by one's children, if both parents were werewolves. Interestingly enough it manifested as slightly wolfish all the time, but slightly less murderous on the full moon if they really worked on it. That didn't mean they weren't dangerous, but it was a little more settled in born wolves than bitten wolves, who went positivly bloodthirsty and feral.

"Most wizards these days ward their houses and gardens against fairies, considering them irritating pests," Fredrick mentioned casually to Harry, giving him the side-eye.

"Yeah?" Harry asked curiously, "there a better way?"

"Leave an offering for them." Frederic explained, "to protect yourself from mischief; fae locks are a devil to get out, you have to cut them," he said, "they're especially bad around Beltane. You can ward them out, but they don't like it. They'll be much happier with you if you leave them sugar or cream. And then you'll both be happier."

They would try out Frederic's advice later, leaving a tiny transfigured cup of cream on the windowsill with a sprinkling of sugar. When they would then check it the next morning, it would be gone and with a faint tingle of magic that Harry won't recognise. Fairy magic.

After doing that a few times they would wake up to a tiny tinkling bell on their last day in the Alley. The bell would have such a high, pure sounding ring that they won't be able help laughing.

END NOTES

Lily took all of the hogwart's subjects except divination, as the teacher then was even worse than Trelawney and Lily self studded the bits that interested her, mainly dream interpretation, tarot and runes. That was the only hogwarts owl she didn't take. She felt divination was too personal and not suited to examinations, he didn't sit the exam for that one.

She took muggle studies without the classes and passed with full marks as she understands the muggle world well enough having lived there.


	52. Chapter 52 Lily and Sev

TRIGGER WARNINGS!

This one has some trigger warnings! The details are at the bottom of the page for anyone who wants to check them.

If I put them here they'll contain spoilers for everyone.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

That night after the dinner shift they sat in front of the fire in Harry's Room. Hermione read one of Harry's books to catch up to where he is on their study schedule, and Harry opened up his mum's diary.

By the looks of it, the summer after his mother's fifth year had been intense. She had filled two whole notebooks with journal entries just from the summer alone. First of all, a distant relative had died earlier in the year, leaving Lily and her sister with a sizeable inheritance. This considerably eased the financial strain she'd lived with her whole life. Even though both her parents worked full time, they still struggled to make enough to make ends meet in Cokesworth. The inheritance meant that Lily could pay her own way, easing the burden on her parents. She put it to good use on her education and supporting herself at once.

The other thing that had his mother up in harms that summer was the Ministry. She had found out, purely by coincidence, that the Ministry offered more OWLs than at Hogwarts. There had been a tiny article in the profit mentioning that the first muggleborn to ever be issued a time turner had had a breakdown and flunked all her exams.

Lily had been furious back in her third-year to learn that she was denied the chance to study extra classes as it would require a time turner. And the Ministry didn't give time-turners out to muggleborns. It added insult to injury, when she then learnt that the Ministry offered extra subjects, not on the Hogwarts curriculum and she'd never been told.

She'd gone into the Ministry several times that summer to demand long distance enrolment in some of the courses. They were reluctant to let a muggleborn enrol as surly she should not do as well as her pureblood peers. On her 3rd attempt, she managed to get a witch, that she then managed to persuade to sign her up.

"You know you'll never get all these subjects done by the time you graduate," the witch had said, "and really, you're wasting your time! muggleborns just don't understand enough to make it that far."

Lily had devoted quite a few pages to her rant about how rude the women had been. And how long it took her to persuade her that, no she wasn't stupid, she had 11 owls thank you very much! And yes, she could do it before she graduated because they had a policy of using time turners!

The women had apparently coughed and spluttered, but Harry's mother had managed to persuade the women that she was 'desperate to fit in, and be like all the pureblood and integrate herself properly. She'd spun a pretty tale that appealed to the witche's pureblood ideas.

His mother had not managed the time turner, however. Still, she did manage to sign up for several extra classes including, Etiquette and Culture, Religion, Ancient Studies, Spell Creation and Enchanting. She'd also signed up for the language OWL. With language potions, it was a relatively easy OWL. She'd wanted to sign up for Art and Alchemy as well but knew that without a time turner, five extra subjects would be a tough let alone two on top of that just for fun.

Then she just had to manage them all and get her NEWTs.

The rest of her summer had been filled with a haze of studying and more time turner applications, that were unsuccessful. Lily spent a lot of time ignoring Potter's persistent owls and trying not to dwell on the conflict with Sev. That too took up a good deal of space in her diary entries.

Normally she and Sev spent most of the summer in the park between their houses, in Lily's kitchen brewing or studying, or inventing spells and potions. But this summer it was long hours studying, avoiding the issue, avoiding the hurt, and avoiding Petunia who had gotten colder and crueler towards her sister.

But it was not only Lily's emotional conflict with Sev that she wrote about. It was in this summer that she truly had started researching and learning about the Darke. Now she had some money she could afford to go and get some books! She took a long trip to Diagon Alley and ended up in Nocturne in a book shop catering to the Darke. She'd intended to go for language potions but ended up with several books on the Darke, Gods and Goddesses and Darke ritual magic.

Lily had spent several days in Nocturne that summer learning about the Darke, and choosing her Goddess Hekate. It was Hekate she felt the most drawn to, and it was Hekate she turned to for guidance that summer when she had no-one else. Meditating on Hekate's crossroads proved to be a helpful way of seeking out her Goddesses guidance over what to do about Sev, and just about everything else she was struggling with. It was hard to ask her parents when they had nothing to do with the magical world she was part of.

Lily dedicated herself to her goddess before the summer ended in her parent's backyard under the black moon. She'd chanted to her goddess and offered up her self in commitment for her goddesses guidance and protection and had closed the ritual feeling a little less alone in the world.

When Lily returned to school, things did not seem to get any better. While she had not given up on applying (and reapplying) for a time-turner, the prejudice of the Ministry continued to turn down her application, especially with no pureblood to advocate for her. The Ministry was just too prejudiced in those dark times.

Sev had stayed away all summer and continued to stay away in school, occasionally throwing her furious glares. Lily had so much to do though, that she didn't have time to give it much thought. She was taking way more extra subjects than she really could handle and was slowly being run into the ground under it all.

But she could not stand the idea of proving those stuck up purebloods at the Ministry right! If only they'd let her have a time turner as they did with the purebloods!

Things came to a head just before Halloween. Sev had been cold and angry all term. They got into a row. They ended up screaming at each other again. Sev yelled at her for abandoning him, and she yelled that he stayed away that summer, so it was his own fault!

It turned out that he had tried several times that summer to work things out with her but Petunia, unbeknownst to Lily, had been turning Sev away and burnt his notes.

They talked it out at length.

It took a while, and they were both prickly and mad, but they talked over the death eaters and Slytherin house and why he had called her a Mudblood.

It turned out that it had not been an accident, but he hadn't wanted to do it. He didn't think her less than anyone else, or that muggles were trash (though his father definitely was). But, if he hadn't done something to end their friendship, the Slytherins would have done something drastic.

"You should have told me you tosser," she'd snapped at him.

"Yeah. Sorry. I thought you hated politics." He'd replied.

"No. I hate that you have to put up with what you do in that house and that I'm not there to have your back." She corrected him snappishly.

They worked things out and were back to being a team again by Christmas. They dosed the Marauders with nightmare potion for months in retaliation for assaulting Sev. And they got away with it too. They kept up the pretence of being enemies so that both their houses stopped bothering them.

They giggled at their own intelligence afterwards, at having everyone fooled. For the first time since they got to school, Sev didn't have to fend off hex's in the common room over fraternising with the Gryffindor mudblood.

But to add insult to injury, Lily was barely managing her workload. She wouldn't be ready to take extra OWLs that summer if she didn't manage to get hold of a time turning and the Marauders were amping up their attacks on Sev.

Before, they'd just been mean and humiliating in their dealings with him, and had done minor harm. Now however, their pranks had started to get dangerous. It was beginning to seriously frighten both of them.

Things had come to a head in the new year.

"Don't you get it Snivillus,?!" Potter had snapped, catching sight of Sev out by the edge of the forest.

It was early morning, and they'd been out collecting ingredients. Lily had been there too but a bit further in. It was normally safe for them to be out together that early in the morning. There was usually no one else out to see them.

Her friend had been tired and withdrawn for days, but wouldn't breathe a word about what had happened. But Lily had known something was wrong. Something had frightened him, badly. And there was little that frightened Sev these days.

"We don't want you here you no good waste of space!" Potter had continued.

"You're really stupid aren't you Snivillus?" Black had joined in, "Thinking you're so smart, setting yourself up to be rescued and get Remus killed! You're lucky Prongs saved your rotten hide."

"I didn't know you were trying to murder me when you let slip how to get into the Shack." Sev spat, "It was on purpose, wasn't it? You were trying to use your best mate as a murder weapon; on me! You're just as crazy as your family, Black!"

"What are you doing!" Lily shrieked when she came running over and saw Black, Potter and Pettigrew pressing Sev up against a tree, his wand on the grass, and Black had a knife to Sev's throat, which was starting to bleed. She shouted a disarming charm that had sent the weapons flying into her hands, and away from Sev's neck.

"Nothing that concerns you, Evans," Black sneered, "We're just teaching dirty Snivillus a lesson. Now go away."

"You tried to get Mooney Killed!" Shrieked Pettigrew trying and failing to punch Sev in the jaw, "you deserved what you got!"

"I thought you were brewing Firewhisky or something back there!" Sev yelled back. "That needs moon cycles! And everyone knows Lupin's father is dodgy as fuck and is a dirt poor drunk!" He spat, "it was you lot that tried it on me!"

Lily suddenly working out what Sev hadn't quite said, "You did what?! How dare you!"

She rounded on Black faster than any of them could blink and fired off a hex that left Black howling on the ground clutching himself.

"Bloody hell Evens! What did you do?" Potter yelled, rushing to Black's side.

Sev had quickly shoved off Pettigrew and jumped at Lily holding her back from hexing them more.

"You fool," he spat, "they'll just get you in detention, or start targeting you! Let's go!"

But Lily wasn't listening.

"You fucking murderers! Where is your Gryffindor sense of nobility," Lily had spat, "you foul evil little snot balls! What did he ever do to you to deserve all this!? To deserve a grisly death by a raging werewolf! That is your friend!"

"Well, he exists!" Potter said, almost jokingly.

Sev let her go at that point, and she rounded on Potter punching him in the nose.

"Ow!" he cried, holding his broken nose, "you hit hard, Evans!"

He flicked his wand at his face, mending the break with a nasty crunch and clearing the blood. Then he had smirked and said to her, "it was only a joke. How about you go out with me instead!"

Lily glared at them.

"He's a fine catch," Pettigrew said, moving to check on Black and casting a spell on him. Presumably a diagnostic charm.

"I wouldn't date you if you were the last boy on earth! Not someone who has a head as over-inflated as yours, who picks on people for sport and enjoys routinely assaulting my best friend!" She snapped and narrowed her eyes when Black sat up and elbowed Potter's leg as if trying to tell him something.

"Piss of Potter," Sev snapped, feeling braver now that he didn't have three weapons against his throat, "take your cronies and get out of here. Leave us alone"

"No one asked you Snivillus," Pettigrew sneered.

Potter ignored them both and said, "Go on Evans, go out with me."

"Leave us alone," Lily spat turning and stalking back to the castle. She had homework to finish before class, and couldn't afford to waist any more time on them. She was stretched thin as it was.

Sev didn't follow but after a short moment ran to catch up with her.

"You shouldn't have done that," Sev said, "though I'm glad you did though. They deserved it. What did you do to him?"

"Castrated him."

"What?!"

"Well, not yet. It'll stop hurting in a tick, and when it does his balls will shrivel up and drop off." She said, sounding far too pleased with herself, "I invented the spell after he stripped you naked, in front of everyone. I'm sick of the lot of them, getting away with so much shit."

Harry stared at the writing on the page. His mother had castrated his godfather! She had actually hexed his balls off. Just the idea made him feel a bit ill.

From her diaries he knew that she had nearly always gotten some sort of retaliation before. She believed in payback. But she didn't seem to believe in harming others, or bullying, as far as he had been able to tell.

She'd never really hurt anyone, until then. Sure she'd gotten angry before, and had gotten payback. But she'd never really hurt anyone seriously in her revenge. Up until that point she'd been civilised but not cruel.

It was his mother that normally held Sev back from being nasty in their payback. She'd insisted on not being as bad as them. She'd used pranks and things to make the Marauder's life harder, to embarrass them. She often turned their own things back on them.

But it had never been harmful or permanent. That was one of the things Harry had like so much about her. She never let injustice lie, but she'd always been fair about it. She'd always seemed so good. So perfect...

This had been different.

This was more vicious.

Apparently, she did believe in hurting someone if she had to, to get them to leave her alone... or someone she cared about.

Harry didn't blame her, but he couldn't help feeling a little let down that she wasn't as perfectly virtuous as he had thought.

Not that he had room to talk, he'd stabbed a man in the leg in Nocturne who'd tried to mug him. Maybe that was where he got it from...

He kept reading.

"That's..." Sev had sounded pleased and horrified, she had noted somewhat pleased.

"I know," she had agreed, "I don't normally condone harming others, but he needs a taste of his own medicine. The kid gloves are off. I'm too tired to care about being nice. Let them have exactly what they dish out. It was worth it.

And it's not like the teachers or the headmaster are going to do anything to stop them. They haven't before. If they're going to try and kill you, I'm going to make them sorry. I'm tired of them getting away with everything and hurting people whenever they feel like it, just for shits and giggles."

"They've been getting worse," Sev admitted quietly, "it's getting harder to hide from them.

"Exactly," Lily said, "besides they have a map now. That's how they find us. I haven't managed to steal it off them yet, but they were bragging about it."

"I'll dob the thing into Filch," Sev said darkly.

She nodded. She didn't regret her choice. Not when they had been escalating all year. And she wasn't so sure that they'd make it out unscathed next time. Not if Black had started really trying to hurt or maybe kill Sev. Something about the way they'd been acting that year had really started to scare her.

"Anyway, what did you do to them after I walked off? I know you did something" She asked, piercing her friend with a knowing look.

He smirked, "Dumbledore put a Geas on me so I can't talk about the werewolf incident to anyone who didn't already know, so I couldn't seek out justice. I just did the same thing to them. They now can't blab about what you did."

Lily smirked viciously, and hugged her friend, "thanks for having my back."

"Always." He said, "it was worth it, to see Black on the ground for once."

Like usual, their Heads of House, and Dumbledore, had been useless in helping the two of them. Lily had complained at length in her journal about the injustice of it.

It was apparently just schoolyard scuffles; nothing serious. They were on their own. Again. 'Useless pricks!' she had thought, fuming at the injustice of Sev's situation.

They never did anything to help him. She had been reminded vividly of how he'd looked at the end of fourth year when he had again begged Slughorn and Dumbledore to let him stay at Hogwarts over the summer. And they had turned him away.

Unfortunately, castrating Black, it didn't help. It seemed that within a few days, he had gotten his balls re-grown by someone and acted as if it never happened. She had been hoping he would have had some hesitation on messing with them after that.

But it was not to be.

The marauders had just kept going. They enjoyed it too much! Just that week she'd seen them send a trip jinks at Sev from the top of the stairs. If she hadn't grabbed him by the robes, he could have been seriously hurt. As it was, they both went tumbling a few stairs, until she managed to grab a banister to stop their fall. They'd still needed a lot of salve for bruises and pulled muscles. But they had a well-stocked first aid kit by that point and at least it hadn't killed them. Yet.

Black had been particularly bad that term. Something must have happened with his crazy family over the break, Lily had mused darkly. He had always taken it out on Sev when that happened.

Lily and Sev had been cornered next in the courtyard one lunch break after easter break. Lily had been feverishly trying to finish her potions homework before class. She had too much to do to be pay Potter and his gang any attention, and Sev was being lookout. But they didn't have wands out this time. Which actually just made her more wary.

"I'll get you a time turner," Potter said suddenly stalking up to them, miraculously ignoring Sev's drawn wand and not picking a fight.

"I know you've been applying for one." He had continued, "Go out with me, and I'll get you one."

And for a moment, she had actually considered it. She'd repeatedly been applying for one, and consistently turned down. Without one, her workload was impossible. She had been working on 3-4 hours of sleep a night, at most to try to stay on top of it all. She was absolutely exhausted. It just wasn't working, and she was getting desperate.

And it showed in that fleeting moment of considering putting up with him for a time turner.

Sev elbowed her, hissing, "Lily!"

But the damage was done, and Potter had seen that moment of weakness and jumped on it like a snake.

"I know you're doing a million subjects, and keep applying for one. My family has connections; I'll get one for you. If you go on a date in Hogsmeade with me."

"Fuck off," she had snapped, "what will it take for you to get it through your thick skull that I don't want anything to do with you! Leave us alone!"

"I'll even leave Snivellus alone," Potter had said dangling the metaphorical carrot in front of her.

"Fuck off Potter!" Sev had spat, and Lily hissed, "stop that hideous name already! Get lost!"

"Who asked you Snivellus," Black spat condescendingly.

Before either of them could draw wands, Potter had said, "All of us will — not a single hex in anything but self-defence. We'll leave Sniv- Snape, alone. Go on a date with me Evans, and I'll get you that time turner for your classes and prove I can be nice, that you're better off with me," he added cajolingly.

"Fine."

"Lily, no," Sev hissed.

"Lily, yes," she snapped, "it's one date. I can't keep doing this. It's not just for you. It's for me too."

"I can manage," he spat, "don't be such a dunderhead!"

"I know!" she snapped back, "that's what fucking we do! But one afternoon is a small sacrifice for more fucking time," she murmured heatedly, "and if I can bargain our safety too, then I'll take it! I'm not a fool. Your Slytherin cunning has rubbed off too much for me not to take this opportunity. Please Sev? He had a knife to your throat, nearly sent you toppling down the stairs, has set you up with a werewolf to die. Please Sev. I'm tired of this. They're never going to stop otherwise."

"Its a good deal, Evans" Lupin had added in, "you should make the most of it. Prongs is a good guy if you give him a chance.

They had glared at the Marauders, and after arguing a bit more, Sev had conceded unhappily.

"I'll go on that date with you if you get me a time-turner by the end of the week," Lily had eventually agreed coldly, "and you and your gang of thugs leave Sev and me alone. No teasing, no hexing, no assault,-"

"We never-"

"Shut up!" she spat, at Black, "it was assault and attempted murder. Multiple attempted murders! No more." She continued, "no pranking him, no getting anyone else to do it, no more hurting him or me. No more attempts on his life, you fucking arseholes. No more asking me out after this or harassing us. You and your little gang pretend we don't exist." She snapped.

Pettigrew whistled, then snickered, "oh boy, Prongs, your Evans has quite the mouth on her."

His friends had snickered some more, and before Lily could hex him, Sev snapped, "Shut up!" and fired off a stinging hex at Pettigrew. Pettigrew howled, and Black and Lupin all drew their wands on him.

"A kiss then too," Potter said, ignoring them and staring at her.

"Fuck off," she spat, "call off your thugs. I'm not kissing you. I'll catch something nasty."

"You want to prove yourself worthy of me, that I should date you? Stop being a fucking prat. Grow up Potter, and stop bullying people. Stop being such an abusing moron!" She had continued.

"Fine," he snapped, "but you'll let me court you properly then. A courting contract and everything. Give me the rest of this term, we'll leave you bother alone, we'll be civil and I'll get you the time turner. Give me a chance. Then if you still don't like me, I'll... I'll leave you alone! For good."

"Fine!" She snapped, "but then you leave me alone permanently! This term, no more!"

"And no castrating Padfoot," Potter said

"Fuck you!" She spat, "he tried to kill my brother! Repeatedly! He deserved to be permanently fixed, like the dog he is!"

"Give it a rest already Evans!" Potter snapped, "It was a joke. Give me this year and the rest of next." He said instead.

"This term! No more!" she said, scowling but shook her head at Sev when he tried to cut in, "No more than an hour each hogshead weekend. Just that hour, just on those weekends. No kissing, no touching!" she haggled, "you leave us alone, and are model citizens. And the time turner is here for me by Friday. Then next year you pretend we don't exist."

"You never know Evans," Lupin said, "you might change your mind."

"Prongs is a real find!" Black snickered.

They eventually settled, and shook hands on it. A contract of the agreement would be drawn up to be signed on Friday when the time turner was handed over.

But it was a hollow victory, and despite being able to see why she had done it, Sev was furious with Lily for giving in. She didn't care. She just wanted time to sleep.

The contract was drawn up, by Potter and Black. It seemed too good to be true, but Lily and Sev read all the fine print and manage to decipher enough of the flowery formal language to work out that, it was a standard courting contract lasting until the end of the term, as had been agreed. No tricks. No traps. No clauses added in.

They had examined the contract for every loopholes and trick they could think of before Lily had signed it, along with her magical guardian's signature. Her Head of House had seemed to think it was brilliant that she was finally putting Potter out of his misery.

So Lily had a time turner by the end of the week, and their workload suddenly became manageable.

She had gone to Hogsmeade with Potter, biting her teeth. Surprisingly it was not as horrible as she though. He was surprisingly intelligent when he was putting effort into not just being a bully. She still hated him though.

The rest of the year passed as smoothly as it ever did, with a war building outside the castle walls and the Slytherins being groomed to be recruited.

Sev stayed with Lily that summer. His mother had long since died, and his father had finally done a runner. So Sev and Lily went home to Cokesworth together.

She had expected her parents to pick her up from the train station, but after two hours of waiting they caught the bus home. Only to find a SOLD sign on their house. The neighbours had had to tell her that her parents were dead, and her sister had left to some university.

With only her parents and Petunia knowing where she went to school, it would have fallen to Petunia, the only one knowing about Hogwarts, to inform Lily after the tragedy had happened. It seemed her sister, had not seen fit to pass on the message. Lily had not thought Petunia could ever hate her that much!

Lily had never been so devastated and heartbroken in her life.

It was awful.

Overcome with grief, Lily got herself a place in Nocturne Alley with Sev. Their summer was filled with working in Nocturne and immersing themselves in the Darke. Lily took her extra OWLs and her Language NEWTs and planned for the future.

She hadn't know what she wanted to do after school yet but preferred to focus on that, than the loss of her parents and betrayal of her sister. Pages and pages of tear-stained paper had been filled and it made Harry's heart hurt just reading it!

Lily was thinking of making things like the trunk she had been working on. She was trying to put an apartment in it this time, so she'd always have a home. She thought she'd like to keep creating and inventing things. She had been thinking too of starting with a charms mastery, or maybe something in spell creation. Or perhaps a runes and arithmancy mastery. She hadn't been able to make up her mind yet. Or maybe she would study potions like Sev, if she could manage to find a master that would take her. Unfortunately, Professor Slughorn, while he taught potions, he was not a master, so she could not study under him after her NEWTs

Lily was appointed Head Girl when she had returned to school after the summer. It was her last year and she was pleased to be Head Girl, but sad all over again that her parents were not there to congratulate her.

Unfortunately some moron had made Potter, Head Boy. It was like the world was conspiring against her. It was infuriating as now that she had finally gotten him to leave her alone, they had jobs to do together at school!

But it was not quite as horrible as she thought it would be. Despite herself, she found he was intelligent and she hated to admit it, rather attractive, even if he was a dick. She still didn't like him, but he'd stopped being a prat and bullying people, and she was starting to grudgingly, not like him, but not loathe him with quite such a passion as she had done before.

But if she had to spend time with him now, at least, it wasn't as gods awful as she had feared. Maybe he had grown up. She still didn't like him though. And she would never forgive him for what he'd done to Sev.

Harry frowned. That couldn't be right, his father had kept pranking people. Not as much but there was still plenty of incidences during their last year where they had picked on other kids. They'd recorded it all in their grimoire. Maybe they'd just hidden it from his mum...? But then how did he get around the contract?

Harry slipped into a troubled sleep on his expanded bed in the inn, his head on Hermione's shoulder, who had fallen asleep in her book.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

TRIGGER WARNINGS!

Violence, abuse and bullying - the Marauders

Lily gets payback

Castration

poor choices made when being overtired and overworked

Adults being useless negligent assholes


	53. Chapter 53 The Last Words

Notes:

This is the last instalment of Lily's diary, and how the hell she ended up marrying James

This took for ever. It took ages to get just right, so I hope you like it.

TRIGGER WARNINGS!  
This one has some trigger warnings! The details are at the bottom of the page for anyone who wants to check them.  
If I put them here they'll contain spoilers for everyone.

Also this is one of the last few chapters of the winter break. There are still a couple more and I know you guys want to get back to Hogwarts but their important for character/plot development.

0o0o0o0o0o0o00o

When they woke the next evening, on Tuesday, Harry led Hermione on a run over the rooftops of Nocturne. At first, she was hesitant due to the height, but after she got into the groove of it, Hermione started to enjoy the challenge as much as Harry did.

The view of Nocturne and London lit up by the setting sun was spectacular, and there was something refreshing about watching the alley wake up for the evening.

They had agreed the night before to sleep in the room of the inn instead of in the trunk. That would let them turn time back a full 24 hours to test the time turner. They had planned out their schedule for studying for the extra classes. If they had worked it out properly, the schedule should have them ready to take a few OWLs at the Ministry over the summer and on track to do the rest the summer after their fifth year, with their Hogwarts OWLs.

They carefully filled out the forms but didn't send them in yet. They didn't want Dumbledore to find out and interfere. They could hand them in over the holidays, before they sat the tests.

That, and Harry still needed to come up with the application fees for the extra exams. He didn't yet have enough gold. Hopefully the Basilisk sale's would have started by then.

Once they had spun the time turner back 24 hours, Hermione spent the morning catching up to Harry on their WEA study plan. Harry, however, spent the morning reading the rest of his mother's diary.

Mostly that year had been smooth for the Lily and Sev. Or as smooth as it could, with a war picking up and the dark side actively trying to recruit or coerce the seventh years into joining.

Severus, was a potions protege, with grand plans for it. The least of which was publishing decent textbooks, inventing new potions and improving hundreds of substandard recipes.

It was getting noticed.

Avery and Mulcibers' mysterious boss, Lord Voldemort, (and wasn't that a stupid name Lily had scornfully written) the heir of Slytherin, wanted Sev. Not only did they expect Sev to fall into their muggle hating, superior ways, but they also wanted him to be as cruel as they were and to brew potions of them. Lily and Sev were well aware of the war heating up around them but didn't want to get caught up in it. But now it was being forced upon them.

The junior Death Eaters had enough power to make Sev's life very difficult if he didn't play ball. They'd threatened to un-house him for refusing to follow their house's heir. It may have been close to the end of the year at that point, but it wasn't too late for them to force an un-housing through and put a permanent blemish next to Sev's name.

Sev had of course played along, just enough to get his exams done, then told them to get fucked! He had then spent the last few weeks of his seventh year in hiding, sleeping outside of the common room, in Lily's trunk.

Harry swore at this, looking at the green blanket as if it had betrayed him. It must have belonged to Sev. Shit. He liked that blanket.

They passed their NEWTs with top marks and Lily was offered a charms mastery, which she accepted after a great deal of humming and harring over her options. It had been a hard choice picking Charms over Runes and Arithmancy. In the end she figured, she could always start with Charms and then go on to complete the other masteries.

Lily and Sev both lived in Nocturne, in the flat she had bought the previous summer. She and Sev had set up an owl-order potions business while they were finishing their post-school studies and saved to leave the country, to get away from the growing war.

Lily had joined the Order of the Phoenix, with her charms master. Apparently, Headmaster Dumbledore had set up an underground organisation to bring down the dark lord. It was not fun, but if she was stuck in England for the time being while she completed her apprenticeship, she might as well do something to help stop the dark tosser.

Lily didn't start out actively fighting, but brought the order information from Nocturne and what Sev picked up from his old contacts. Sev had not joined with her, refusing to take part in anything run by Dumbledore. And rightfully so, the man had turned him away when Sev had pleaded for help on too many occasions. She would never forget Sev telling her how the Headmaster had sent him away with, 'surely it wasn't that bad?' and that his father 'surely loved him!'

That and the man had let the Marauders get away with attempted murder. Lily agreed with Sev's views on the man but felt that while she was in England, she had to do something to help.

Sev may have refused to have anything to do with the old man, but he had agreed to feed Lily whatever information he could get. He wasn't going to help the old man, but he would help his best friend.

Things were not so easy for Sev; however, Lily had lamented in her writing. Despite his top marks and his gift, Sev had little luck in gaining an apprenticeship with a potions master. Every master he had applied to had turned him down without saying why. It seemed that turning down Slytherin's heir, the Dark Lord, was coming back to bite him.

Badly.

Lily pondered over pages and pages that it must be an elaborate ploy by the Dark Lord to get his claws into Sev. Sev had managed to avoid becoming a Death Eater and taking the dark mark.

Up until that point.

Harry frowned, the dark mark... Had Riddle really branded his followers with his symbol like slaves? He shuddered. He'd have to add that to the list of things they hd to research. He wondered if Nocturne had a library? Had she researched it? He'd have to check her notes, and look into it.

Then Lucius Malfoy happened...

Lucius had seduced Sev in a whirlwind affair that ended in a Potions Mastery for Sev, at the cost of his attending one Death Eater meeting. He had promised that if Sev attended just one and if he really hated it, they'd leave him alone. It had seemed a small price to pay to get his mastery. Every one else had turned him away, and he was running out of options.

"Just give them a chance," Lucius had pleaded, all too convincingly.

"Its so important to me," Lucius had coaxed, "the cause is really not what you think. Not at all what the Light tries to betray. It's about protecting our people. About making sure children don't grow up like you did, defenceless against their muggle parents." The sly man had pleaded, "it would mean the world to me, if you came along. Just to one. Just give it a go."

Sev, had been slow to convince but in the end, had given in to the request.

Lily had furiously written that if it seemed too good to be true, it usually was! But Sev had been in love and had trusted Lucius, who had spent all summer gaining Sev's hard earn trust and affection. And she had trusted Sev, and his judgment.

Besides, it ended in him getting his apprenticeship. One meeting was a small price to pay and he was fast-tracking the path to his Potions Mastery. He'd be fine in a year.

The two of them started their apprenticeships at the end of the summer. Lily loved the freedom of post-graduate studies and Sev despite hating his master, enjoyed his studies too, and was enjoying being courted by Lucius.

He'd been so starved for any affection other than Lily, that he had unfortunately fallen head over heals.

But then he had to go to the meeting.

Lucius, it later turned out, had indeed been bad news.

Lily had suspected that Lucius had slowly seduced Sev to get him to join the Dark Lord, possibly even on the Dark tossers orders. Not that Sev would listen to her warnings.

She thought Lucius was buttering him up, stroking his non-existent ego so he'd do anything Lucius asked. It worked. Despite all Sev's inherent distrust of people, and all his caution, it worked.

Sev was half in love with Lucius and terrified of the consequences of backing out. So he went to the meeting; too scared to lose Lucius or his apprenticeship to say no. It was just one meeting. It shouldn't be that bad.

Sev was fast-tracking his Mastery, but if his master was killed before he finished it or cast him away, he'd be left with nothing. He just needed to finish it, then he could get out. Once he had his Mastery, he'd have something he could use, something to fall back on.

Surely one meeting couldn't be that bad. Besides, he loved and trusted Lucius. Lucius, who had done so much for him, and cared for him so much.

The meeting was an initiation though, to Sev's horror. Not the little chat as he was led to believe. There was a strange look of satisfaction in Lucius' eye, as he presented Severus to the Dark Lord, who despite himself, Sev thought was handsome and charming.

When Sev realised he was going to be marked, he panicked. But he loved Lucius, trusted Lucius, so surely it couldn't be too bad? Maybe they had been wrong about the Dark Lord and his cause?

Lucius only wanted what was best for him. So surely it was better to agree to the mark willingly before they hurt him too badly? And he did agree with some of it, was drawn to the power despite himself. But their ways disgusted him, their brand disgusted him.

He was wrong!

Lucius Malfoy had then looked at Severus and with a sneer of pure, honest loathing. He explained in humiliating detail how Sev had just been a job. He'd been seduced only because the Dark Lord wished it. The Dark Lord had needed a Potions Master, and had come up with a plan. Ever faithful to his master, Malfoy had done as he was bidden. Because really, the man had laughed tauntingly, as if someone like him a pureblood, would ever love someone like Snape!

Then Sev realised just how monumentally stupid he'd been; how naive and foolish he'd been! He'd been used. He was heartbroken and humiliated and terrified as other initiates were branded willingly before him, or tortured into it untill they gave in.

So he was branded. Like cattle. A slave, into a lifetime of servitude to the Dark Lord. There was nothing he could have done.

And yet, as much as he hated it, there was a small part of him that wanted it. Just a little. A small hurt bit of himself that wanted to hurt other people as the Death Eaters did. Part of him wanted to hurt and maim and burn and tear apart the world that had let him and Lily down so terribly!

He had always had a nasty streak, he would admit to her later, as guilt clawed at his insides trying to eat him alive. It was something he and Lily saw in each other, but they had always tempered that in each other. Lily had always been better at it than him.

Lily was horrified. Sev had turned up on her doorstep shaking and filthy looking half-dead as if his very soul had been sucked out. The whole rotten story had come pouring out of him as he sobbed into his best friends arms. Lily had been more furious than she'd ever been in her life. It had taken all Sev had to stop her storming out and hunting down Lucius Malfoy himself and gutting him.

And when her fury had calmed, it gave way to such terrible fear and hurt for her friend. They cried together and prayed to Hekate for guidance, for forgiveness. And Lily had started researching how to undo it. She'd had pages and pages of notes, filling plenty of notebooks on the shelves of her apartment as she tried to work out how to free her friend.

She'd spent hours and hours on it, using the time turner, hardly sleeping, trying to find a way to fix it. And Sev helped her, whenever he could. He sat through countless experiments to try and rid himself of the thing. But nothing worked, and he could not remember for the life of him, how the Dark Lord had done it. He had not seen or heard the spell the foul man used.

So Sev practised his Occlumency harder than he ever had before, and Lily helped however she could. He started feeding her (and the Order through her) information on the Death Eaters.

They were determined, now, to end the Dark Lord, and to bring them all down from within. They would make something of this shitty situation. They had always been survivors, Lily had written. They had come too far, clawing their way up the nobody latchkey kids of impoverished Cokesworth to give up now. They'd beat them all.

And then James Potter came back to haunt her.

He'd left her alone all summer, and despite Dumbledore insisting on pairing them up for Order projects, she'd thought she'd finally been free of his stalking. She'd thought he'd given up. Finally, he had grown up.

Or not.

It was the start of November. It had been a long busy month for Lily. She'd been tired and stressed, and she and Potter were paired up in a raid. He had admittedly improved since she had made that contract, even more since it had ended.

He was making an effort to be nicer to her now. She still hated him, and would never forgive him for what he had done to her brother, for harassing her, but he had deflated his head a tad, and she didn't totally loathe him as much as she used to. And he had left Sev alone, as promised.

They successfully managed to prevent the group of Death Eaters torching a muggle suburb but they had both nearly died in the process. They were elated.

It was the order's first significant breakthrough. The information she'd been feeding them from Sev was making a difference at last, and she was high on their success and the rush of not dying.

She got a drunk with the Marauders that night and may have slept with Potter.

She berated herself later, furious at herself for letting herself get drunk, for letting her guard down around them, when no-one was there to watch her back.

She may not like Potter that much, but he was hot. She probably would have slept with him before if he had not been such a colossal prat and an obsessive stalker of a prat at that. She may not be interested in dating him. Not at all! and that farce at school had been way more than enough dating for a lifetime.

But she'd wanted the sex. She wouldn't have slept with Potter if she hadn't. But really?! Potter?!

She'd berated herself savagely afterwards. She never usually slept with Arseholes! Even hot ones! What had she been thinking, giving in to him?! Why had she suddenly let the alcohol and lust go to her brain?!

Harry made a horrified face at this and hoped dearly that his mother wouldn't go into detail. So far she hadn't put in any aspects of her sex life, though she had one. She liked sex, she had written, but it wasn't a big enough deal for her to write about it at length!

Harry made another disgusted face and kept reading, wondering what on earth had possessed his mum to sleep with his father. Clearly she hadn't been in her right mind then.

A month later, things got worse.

Again.

She'd been ill for a while, but refused to go to a doctor, 'it's just gastro, Sev. It's going around I'll be fine!'

Sev had a MediWizard qualification as part of his Mastery at that point and was worried. Witches didn't usually get sick and puke that much, that often. So he insisted she let him test her. She acquiesced, if for no reason other than to get her frantically worried friend to shut up about it. It was gastro! She'd be fine once she puked it out of her system!

Unfortunately, he then had to tell her she was pregnant with Potters spawn.

She had been shocked, then horrified that it was Potter's, and furious with herself. But despite that, pleased. So very pleased. She hadn't even wanted children before! Not really! But now she was pregnant... she wanted it. She wanted this little child so much that it hurt!

But a child?! She'd been on Contraceptus potion! War was not the time to have a baby! Someone must have spiked both her's and Potter's drinks with lust or fertility potions, or her contraceptive would have worked! She'd brewed it herself. Flawlessly!

Then she realised and could have slapped herself. She'd taken a pepper-up potion before the raid. She'd been tired, and pepper-up potion was known to sometimes interfere with contraception potions. And she thought she may have missed a dose of Contraceptus earlier that week due to anther last-minute raid.

Holy Fuck!

It made more sense than her drinks being spiked. She hadn't been drugged, just really tired and had gotten careless. And then she'd gotten drunk!

That probably explained why she'd let lust override her usually good common sense.

And being drunk would also explain why Potter had seemed so much more incredibly hot than normal. He was attractive most of the time. He always had been. And while he had even improved a bit outside of school, she held a grudge, a wicked one.

Grudges and shitty people were normally a huge turn-off. She preferred liking the people she had sex with, thank you very much!

Fuck.

Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck.

She'd been an idiot.

She had let them get her drunk and wash away all her common sense. Fuck! Those gits!

They had all been unusually gentlemanly in filling up her glass. She'd been so tired and relieved not to have been killed that she hadn't questioned their out of character behaviour. She should have.

Fuck, Lily you fool! She had written followed by pages of expletives and increasingly creative threats against the Marauders' person (and reproductive organs) and then pages and pages of panicked rambling. Followed by more swearing.

She stayed in Nocturne that month, ignoring the war, and the light, and tried to work out what to do. But then Potter and Black turned up at her door brandishing the old courting contract telling her the wedding was planned and she had better be there.

She'd slammed the door in their face then, opened it, yanked the contract out of his hands and slammed the door on their to smug noses again.

She took perverse delight in their yelp as they door hit them in the face. She hoped it really hurt.

She re-read the contract.

Balls. It looked different from the one she'd signed. It had changed, but she still recognised it. She recognised her signature and the sharper than usual angles in the letters of it. She'd had a slight shake in her hands that day, she'd been so tired.

There were more subclauses in this one than she hadn't seen before. One of the clauses in complicated, flowery legal language basically made it a betrothal contract. If she ever had sex with Potter, she had to marry him or forfeit her magic.

She hadn't realised.

It was written really small, and somehow she'd missed it. Later she'd learnt it had been in there in invisible ink when she'd signed it. It had been written to trap her with Potter in an-unbreakable marriage. And she'd been too stupid to see it coming and had agreed to it, thinking it a simple fix to solve her problems and get Potter off her (and Sev's) back long term. Fuck!

They had checked the language for loopholes! But they hadn't thought to check for invisible ones!

Fucking Arseholes! No wonder they'd tried to get her drunk!

At least they hadn't put in a clause to stop her hexing their balls off.

They should have really. She'd make it permanent this time!

Christmas passed. Lily tried desperately to find a way out of the contract, even asking Master Flitwick, and the Gringotts Goblins for help. But there was nothing to be done. The bastards had done their homework for once.

The contract was ironclad.

The wedding was in February.

The contract stipulated that the marriage be held, no later than 4 months after the date they had sex. The public reasoning, was that it was good for morale. And it was better for the baby to not be born a Potter bastard, out of wedlock. If the baby was a legitimate heir, he or she would be set for life.

Harry took out his photo album then and flicked through until he was looking at the photo of his parent's wedding. The first time he's seen it, he'd thought them so in love. They seemed so happy! But she wasn't in love and she wasn't happy.

He peered closely at his mother then, focusing on her green eyes and on her smile. His mother didn't seem as happy now as he thought she'd been. In fact, now he was looking, she looked strained and her smile a little forced. Like a mask. He knew that face.

He peered at the photo carefully and thought that he could see the beginnings of her baby bump if he looked for it. He stared. That. Was. Him.

He ran a finger over her, feeling so inexplicably sad for her.

Potter had managed to track down Petunia and her new husband, Vernon. In an attempt to get Lily to stop being mad at him, he'd invited her sister to the wedding. Petunia and her husband, however, refused.

Lily had been told her sister would be there. She was again devastated to be shunned by her only remaining blood family. Again.

To make matters worse, Lily hadn't been allowed to have Sev at her wedding. Her best friend and the closest thing she had to a brother, couldn't be there to support her on that awful day. They had barred him from the venue. Her friend Alice had been there, doing her best to support her friend in a horrible situation. But not Sev. And that had hurt just as much as her sister abandoning her.

Lily had written pages and pages of really quite creative and filthy insults then. She'd cursed all the Marauders in her goddesses name, along with Dumbledore and everyone who had ever stood by and done nothing!

She had been so angry at the whole world that again she refused to move out of her apartment in Nocturne. Despite the fact that James had bought a cottage for them to live in, in Godric's Hollow. A wedding present.

She started planning then. Planning the escape of her and her baby. The contract had listed many stipulations for Lily. But not where she lived. That was the one thing they'd forgotten to include. She'd use that.

But then Sev came to her and told her they needed to meet. There was a prophecy about a baby born in July who would defeat the Dark Lord. Lily was due in August, but if her baby was early... if he or she could fit the Prophecy... Especially if her baby ended up being a boy...

Harry stopped and stared at the page. He'd forgotten she'd mentioned a prophecy in her letters. A prophecy, this was all about a sodding prophecy. He'd have to find out what it said. One of her letters had mentioned the Department of Mysteries. He'd have to look into it.

Lily was furious with him but started to cry when he told her Lucius was with him. The Dark Lord would have found out anyway and if he'd tried to keep it quiet they would have just torcherd him again.

He pleaded her fogginess. She had been angry still, but there had been nothing to forgive. Sev had vowed then, on his blood and magic to always keep her baby safe.

The war was heating up. So she let herself be bullied into moving in with James by Dumbledore who seemed to have plans in plans and seemed to be much too pleased by this turn of events.

She hated him then. Again.

He told her of the Prophecy but not what it had said. She knew he knew. Dumbledore had heard the whole thing, when the seer had made it. But he refused to tell her saying it wasn't safe if too many people to knew. The Prophecy and the birth forced her into hiding. She couldn't duel effectively while pregnant. She felt like she was the size of a whale, and she would not risk her child.

Lily had wanted to stay in her apartment in Nocturne and continue her apprenticeship around her pregnancy. But Dumbledore insisted. It wasn't safe he said, and put the cottage Potter bought under the Fidelius with Sirius as the secret keeper.

Lily had been hoping that her baby would be a girl. Not because she actually cared about his or her gender, but because she was desperately hoping so that her baby would escape the Prophecy. Or that he or she would be born, as scheduled, in August.

It was not to be.

Her baby was early. Too early! They were so close to August when her baby was born! Just another minute and her baby would have been safe!

She was both devastated and thrilled when her baby Hadrian was born, a boy. It wasn't that she wasn't thrilled to meet him, or that she cared about his gender, but he fit the first requirements of the Prophecy. Perfectly.

That was devastating.

But despite her baby not being planned, and not escaping the Prophecy, she loved and adored her little Hadrian! She was so thrilled that he existed! She was smitten.

Despite how he came to be, she wouldn't have changed a thing, not when it resulted in such a perfect bundle of joy.

She'd wanted to name him Hadrian Evans. She had not wanted to have her baby affiliated with the Potter's at all, the arsehole! But the bastards had thought of everything when they'd trapped her in that goddess cursed contract it seemed. The stupid thing even had clauses about her children and what they'd be named. So her baby was named Hadrian James Evans-Potter. A compromise.

Harry stopped and stared at that. But despite it all, he could tell in the way she had drawn little sketches of him, pages and pages of them, that she had absolutely adored him and didn't regret anything that had brought him into her life. She had been waxing lyrical about every little thing he did.

It was weird.

As unhappy as she had been, he was the only good thing out of the whole rotten mess. Harry couldn't believe it. He would have regretted all of it if it had been him. Trapped being tied to someone he hated, in a life he never wanted, suddenly having to care for someone else he hadn't asked for? For the rest of his life? Never able to live his own life or have his own dreams? He'd have hated it.

Did hate it!

She wrote at length about Harry's first year. There were sketches and photos stuck into her diary, pages and pages of them, and locks of his hair, and his hand and feet prints, and notes on every tiny little thing that he had managed and accomplished. It was painfully obvious how much his mother had loved and adored him.

It wasn't fair.

Harry started at the page. Stared for a long time at the words on the page.

She loved him.

She loved him and had never considered leaving him to save her own life. That was so profoundly startling and alien. He knew she'd died for him, to save him. But to see such starkly written proof of her love for him... It almost didn't compute.

It was such a foreign concept to be loved. He didn't really understand it.

She'd loved him.

He'd never been loved before. Could never remember being loved.

But she loved him.

But things did not pass smoothly in his first year. After his birth, she started having dreams.

She and Sev were still in contact. They used linked notebooks, and communication mirrors that they'd kept hidden; passing information against the Dark Lord, to try and defeat him. She'd been putting away evidence on the sly too so he'd be safe later. So he wouldn't end up in Azkaban once this a-cursed war was done.

She knew the Dark Lord was after her baby.

She knew he'd made his choice.

She kept pulling the 10 of swords, the hanged man and death cards when she used her tarot and her runes. Stones O'leary and Ogham were little better.

She packed their things and tried to persuade Potter to run. But he was young and stupid and thought himself invincible. He thought stupidly, naively, that the war would be over soon! There was no need to run! And he was a Gryffindor, he wouldn't run like a coward!

Then Black was nearly caught that year. Someone found out that he was the secret keeper and they tried to imperious the information out of him.

They changed secret keepers after that but made a big show of having faith in Black. Faith she didn't have.

Lily had a bad feeling and wanted to use Sev, had always wanted to use Sev. One of the only people in the world she truly trusted with her child. Who better than Sev, who had sworn on his life and magic to always protect her Hadrian?

But Potter would have none of it, and Pettigrew was the new secret keeper, by the beginning of October. Lily was sick with worry, the nightmares kept coming, and the oddly foreboding dreams kept repeating themselves.

But Potter, the thrice damned fool, never listened, the halfwit!

Harry's heart sank when reading that. He knew what that meant. He knew what was coming. But he didn't want to read it. He didn't want her story to end like that.

Lily worried. She had tried to persuade Potter to run with her. She pleaded. He wouldn't budge, and due to the family charter she hadn't seen but married into, she couldn't leave with his only heir without his permission. Not unless she wanted to lose her magic. And without magic, how could she protect her son from it?

She hated the magical world then! Hated the whole rotten Potter family and Potter's very existence! And all his nasty stinking friends for trapping her and her son like this.

But she loved her son.

She couldn't leave and abandoned him. She never even considered it. Not even for a moment. Not when he was her son, the most precious thing in her whole world.

So she prepared for her death on the sly, prepared for the worst. She cried about it the whole time but she set up a bag for her son's first year so he'd be looked after when she wasn't there. She wanted to be, she wanted to watch her son grow old, but she knew.

She knew.

She knew it won't turn out like that. She prepared for just in case, sending her trunk back to Hogwarts where it was safe, for when she could continue her Mastery and go back home to her flat in Nocturne. (But she knew that wouldn't happen.)

Or for her son, when he was older.

It had been October properly by then, and she been frantically researching every protection spell and ritual she could get her hands on. She read every Darke and not so legal protection ritual book Sev could get his hands on. And he spent hours, helping her search, on the sly, for a way to keep them all safe. She put every ward she could think of around her Hadrian's crib until it was the safest place in the whole house.

But she still feared it would not be enough. Not when every tarot card she pulled now as the tower or the hanged man.

Harry nearly threw the book down in irritation. He wanted to know what happened to his mother? Surely it couldn't end there!

He knew she was dead.

But there was something heartbreaking about reading her diary and how her life had turned out. He wanted her to have a happy ending!

But he knew she didn't get that. He hated his father and godfather all over again and all the more for what they'd done; for forcing her ending to be that way. How could they do that?

He huffed and set about making him and Hermione some lunch; wanting to do something with his hands to get his mind off it.

She never got a happy ending he thought angrily as he chopped carrots for a stew. She never got to finish her charms mastery or explore the lake or do any of those things she's written about, had dreamed about. She never got to travel the world.

How could the diary end there?

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNINGS!  
Abuse of authority, manipulation  
People using people  
Dubious consent  
Coerced marriage  
Getting drunk and making stupid choices  
Betrayal of trust  
Getting people drunk  
Violence bullying abuse  
shitty contracts  
Castrating

(discussions of rape and sex)  
So Lilly sleeping with James and producing Harry.  
Consentual but under the influence of alcohol, so consent was dubious.  
It was a stupid call on her part and horrible of James and his friends to get them drunk. But Harry is not the product of rape. And thats what I felt potions, mind manipulation or spell work would be.

She had sex with him. He was hot, she was drunk and not thinking clearly and made a dubious call she normally wouldn't but it was her own call. Just an unfortunate one she regretted as soon as she was sober. She was nor forced into it.  
But it was a stupid fucking choose. She was young, drunk and stupid. Shit happens. And it blew up in their face.

So use protection boys and girls  
and make sure you have someone you trust with you, to have your back if your going to get shit faced around other people you don't trust/don't know.

side note:  
I really didn't want Harry being a product of rape. Rape wasn't something I wanted to look at in this book.  
She was bullied and manipulated and trapped and made some stupid choices consent was dubious but she was not forced. She would have hexed his face off if he tried to force her.


	54. Chapter 54 Life Goes On

NOTES:

In my pagan community, a crone is a elder, older, wiser more knowledgable. A crone is considered to be at the hight of their power, though images can be deceiving (think triple goddess, maiden mother crone). In todays society we often forget about the power and the value of our crones, our elders. Far too often we dismiss them, thinking them frail and weak in their old age. They're not. Their body's may be, but their minds often hold years of life, wisdom and knowledge. Crones are a highly respected and is a valuable achievement.

Harry and Hermione ate lunch silently and Harry set about reading the Hogwarts Charter. He felt numb after reading his mother's diary. He wanted to curl up and sleep forever. But he knew he needed to find out why his mother had been so worried at the idea of Sev being un-housed. Surely it couldn't be that bad? Surely it was just being outside the house system.

Reading the Charter wouldn't give him all answers he wanted, but it was something he could do. Something productive that he _could _find an answer for.

Unfortunately, it could be that bad.

As it turned out, it was not just being houseless and on your own out side of the house system. It was the ultimate punishment and black mark against your name given only to those who had utterly betrayed and dishonoured their houses.

It was not necessarily an expulsion worthy offence or for those who had broke the school rules. It was for those who had gone against or betrayed everything their house stood for.

It was from an older time when honour kills, and family assassination was more common. When honour was a different game from what it was today.

It had fallen out of use but had never been abolished. It was for the worst of the worst. It was for when a person had broken the ideals of their house and had dishonoured it.

Un-housing was a process. It did not need staff input. But it did need majority support within the house. The person then had precisely 21 days to fix their behaviour, prove themselves sorry and that they were worthy of being reinstated into their place in the house.

If at the end of the 21 days the person had not been taken back into the house, then the un-housing it was almost impossible to reverse.

The magic within the school would pick up on the house's decision. It would automatically be reflected in the robes of the person, removing all house colours from the student's robe belt, and changing the house crest's back to that of the school.

Harry's heart sank. That must have been what Professors Flitwick and Snape had been staring at before he had left school.

He kept reading. Un-housing meant no privileges; no quidditch, no clubs, no time outside, no Hogsmeade or anything else. The student would be assigned quarters with house-elf supervision at all times. They were to eat only in the kitchen, and they were to stay in their room at all times when not in class or in the library. Instead of points (as they no longer had a house) the student earns detentions for each set of points lost.

Harry looked up in horror. He had no idea it was that bad, he thought it just meant you were alone. He didn't realise about all the detentions too. His heart sank at the idea of all the points he'd lose for escaping over break. He'll be in detention for months! Even if he hadn't broken any rules, he knew they would try and punish him for not being the good little pawn.

But it wasn't just that, it had a social stigma too. No master would take on an apprentice who had been found that dishonourable, and nor would employers.

His heart felt heavy, his stomach a lead pit.

Neville would never get his Herbology mastery then. Fred and George may not manage to open their own business. Hermione would never manage to get any creature rights or become Minister for Magic or whatever she ended up settling on. But _they_ still had time to fix it. At least for them, it wasn't over yet.

Gods, if Rita Skeeter got ahold of that information, that they'd been un-housed, even if they managed to reverse it, their lives would be done. There would be no future for them.

They'd need to talk to Luna, to get it out first, or get their names protected. They'd have to try and spin it in their favour so that it painted Gryffindor as acting unfairly, which they had...

_Goddess, what had he done?_

He kept reading. Apparently, once the house made a decision, it was meant to be reported, so that if the un-housing became permanent, it could officially be enforced by the Head of House.

Well, McGonagall didn't seem to even notice! So they obviously hadn't bothered to tell her. Why not? Why had the Gryffindors been so quiet about it?

On the bright side maybe if she didn't know it wouldn't to be enforced... But by the looks of it, even if it wasn't enforced, it would still automatically go on his, and his friend's records...

But they still had time to reverse it for his friends, their un-housing was still new, they still have time to fix it.

But if un-housing was so severe why had no-one informed her, why didn't they make sure of it? How much was it automatic? They couldn't possible just not have known how bad it was? Like he hadn't?

"We have a problem," Harry said turning to Hermione, who looked up from the book she was reading.

"What's wrong?" She asked, putting a bookmark in her book when she saw his expression.

So he explained, and they sat huddled in front of the fire for a long time pouring over the charter; extracting every scrap of information on the un-housing, on any options they had, trying not to catastrophise or dwell.

They wrote to Fred, George and Neville on their discoveries as well as to Luna. If un-housing really was that bad, they'd be in a world of trouble if Skeeter got ahold of the story. Better to take a preemptive strike and spin it in their favour.

They made a subsequent plan to get re-sorted. To try and avoid the damage done by the un-housing. The trick would be however, persuading the required amount of heads of houses. They needed the support of at least three heads. Re-sorting could be done, but it was unusual. It could not just be done on a whim.

They fell asleep planning and studying the charter, not wanting to get caught out by anything else. They woke up briefly to Dobby and Winky tucking them into bed before drifting off into a troubled sleep.

It was Tuesday again when they woke, dressed and climb out of the trunk. They returned to the room at Morbid's just in time to see their past selves vanish. It was strange feeling, the remains of the time magic swirling around them and vanish.

Hermione had been very quiet on their run over the rooftops. It was just a short run; they still had to eat and meet Bill. But after being in the trunk all day, Harry had itchy legs.

Her silence was starting to worry Harry. Was she regretting siding with him over Gryffindor? He was starting to wonder if she'd go back to Gryffindor instead of risking a poor mark on her record and the possibility of failure, of not being employable when they finished school. He hoped for her sake that she'd go back to Gryffindor and avoid it all, but the selfish part of him hoped she stayed on his side.

"You know," Hermione said when they were nearly done with their run, "I think this might actually work."

Harry looked at her sharply, "what will?" He asked, jumping over the gap between buildings.

"The time-turner. Going back a full day like that, so we can rest and eat as well as have plenty of study time." Hermione said, "I don't feel nearly as stretched out as I did when I first used the time-turner last year."

Harry and Hermione spend the morning with Bill. They covered more warding, Occlumency, duelling spells and more estate management. Their etiquette was much better than when Harry had first started, and it was hard to tell they'd not been doing it all their lives. Harry's Occlumency was still coming along nicely but not quite good enough yet to face down Dumbledore without being caught doing it.

"Well it sounds like you guys have it under control," Bill said approvingly when they'd finished their Occlumency for the morning, "let's go down to the square and get some proper duelling practice in."

"We can do that?" Hermione asked, curiously watching as Harry changed his appearance back to the hazel-eyed, long brown-haired boy that the people of Nocturne knew him as.

"Yep," Bill said, "you going to use glamours on yourself?" He asked her.

"I probably should," she said, "if they know the two of us are in Nocturne they'll probably work out it's you, Harry," she said pulling out her wand, and spelling her hair blond and put it in a ponytail on the top of her head. She got Bill to change her eye colour to blue.

"I haven't mastered that one yet," she said, "the hair transfiguration is tricky enough, but I'm not brave enough to try my eyes yet. Self transfiguration is really hard."

Bill took them over an empty corner of the park on the edge of the town square. The park was quiet that evening, before lunchtime, but there were a few people out and about, a parent and child on a low flying broom and an older couple on the other side fencing.

When Bill put up containment wards around a large-ish area; no one batted an eye at them, as if it was normal for Nocturne.

Harry and Hermione teamed up against Bill. They start slowly, Bill testing them out. Harry could see that Bill was holding back and was going easy on them. They'd improved over the term practising together, and Harry had a far easier time trusting Hermione to have his back and working with her now, than when he first started.

But Harry still had to concentrate on fighting 'clean.' He only had the training that life on the streets had given him when he had runaway, time and time again, from the Dursley's. And _that_ fighting was very different from proper duelling, and that certainly wasn't 'clean.'

_Fight dirty, fight hard, take every advantage you can and don't stop fighting 'till you're dead. _

He'd had plenty of ducking practice from Dudley, and the streets had taught him to fight with a knife. It was that or get hurt or killed.

He'd been practising duelling with Hermione, Neville, Fred and George, and had started teaching Hermione to fight with a knife too. It was a good advantage to have in a fight. She was getting good at it but was still clumsier than he was. She was good with her hands though, and almost as quick on her feet now as he was.

But Bill didn't have that hard training of fighting for your life in the streets that Harry had.

So Harry held back that side and tried to fight fairly, to fight cleanly. He and Hermione had agreed on it. Just magic, no dirty tricks or unfair advantages. Which didn't quite sit well with Harry. It went against his instincts now he had them back again, and he was loath to ignore them. But this was Bill, not someone trying to gut him, he didn't want to accidentally hurt Bill.

So they fought clean.

Which was why when they'd gotten an advantage, (finally, a clean one) they'd taken it. They had manage to hit him with a few creatively annoying hexes that they'd learnt from Fred and George.

They'd been surprised when Bill fought back dirty. He pulled Hermione's hair. Hermione lost her balance and dropped her wand with a cry.

"Oh, it's on," Harry snarled, shielding her instinctively and kicked out with his leg sharply. He got Bill hard in the shin just as Bill kicked Hermione's wand out of reach.

Bill grunted but grinned as he dodged a hex from Harry and went for Hermione again who was now wandless. Harry tossed her his wand as he slipped between hexes from Bill to get close enough to physically strike.

Hermione shielded and counter hexed a little slower with a different wand. Bill still just managed to dodge but was clearly startled at the suddenly physical turn the duel had taken, allowing Harry to leapt at him and yank on his long Ponytail.

(Really he should have put it on a knot on top of his head like Harry and had.)

Harry used the distraction to then knee Bill in the balls. The taller man toppled with a wheeze, allowing Hermione to dart forward to grab his wand.

"Harsh Harry," Bill wheezed, "hash, you don't do that to another guy!"

Harry frowned at him, "you pulled her hair," he said bluntly as if that explained it. "And I was gentle. I could have kneed you harder, so you'd pass out or start puking."

"You can do that to a guy just by kicking him in the nuts?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Yep," Harry said, trying not to cringe at how he'd learnt that first hand, a number of times, "lots of nerve endings."

"Besides," he said to Bill, "you started fighting dirty. So I fight dirty."

Bill just laughed, letting Harry pull him to his feat with a wince, "good work you two. Really good."

"Are you okay?" Harry said later when they'd cleaned up.

"Yeah, I'm good." Bill said slinging an arm around Harry reassuringly, "how much have you been holding back though?" He asked knowingly.

Harry shrugged, "just muggle fightin', tried to fight clean and proper," Harry said, his words slipping a little, "bit rusty though."

"Not that rusty I'd say," Hermione added in proud, "Harry's been teaching us to fight as well as duel!"

"Brilliant Harry." Bill said clearly approving, "don't hold it back next time, okay? If you work on incorporating muggle fighting into your magical fighting, it will be a real advantage."

"Knives?" Harry asked.

"You asking if I can use them?" Bill asked, slightly surprised.

Harry nodded his fingers twitching, the ghost of an old habit.

Bill nodded, "part of Gringotts training is to defend yourself and your dig." Bill said, "I'm happy to practice with you."

"Good. I left the knife in my shoe. I didn't want to gut you accidentally." He said glancing at Bill worriedly.

But Bill just let out a laugh. "Nice, but I'll teach you some spells to guard your blade for practice. I didn't know the centaurs were teaching you that kind of fighting Harry."

"They didn't," Harry said, not looking at him this time, not ashamed of it but not expecting it to go down that well. Normal people didn't spend time living on the streets. And Harry knew how muggles looked down at street rats. Wizards would hardly be different.

"The centaurs just teach making knives and throwing them, and using them for hunting and butchering and things," he said quietly, "along with the archery."

"Then where'd you pick up knife fighting from?" Bill asked, curiosity bleeding off him.

"Picked it up here and there," Harry hedged, avoiding the question.

"He's teaching us to use Knives too," Hermione chirped, helping her friend shift the attention off him. For which Harry was grateful.

"I had wondered about your hands," Bill said, gesturing to the mostly healed pink marks on her arms and hands.

"Occupational hazard of learning. You get a bit banged up." Hermione said with a shrug, "Its okay though, it doesn't hurt. And it's good practice. We're getting better at healing spells now though. I'll go get us some lunch," she said, spotting one of their favourite street vendors.

"I made her start with blunt knives, before moving on to the sharp ones when she was better. Those won't scar," Harry said with a defensive shrug making Bill wonder if whoever had taught Harry, had not been so considerate. Had Harry learnt to fight by getting his fingers and arms sliced up on real blades until he had figured out how to fight back?

Bill glanced to Harry's hands, but they were in his pockets, and he had long sleeves on.

"Dittany is a fast healer and stops scarring." Harry said, "you don't need to worry about her. She suggested practising on real ones. They'll be red for a little, but she said it didn't hurt. And it won't leave a mark. I made sure."

Bill sighed, a heavy, sad sound. It was different from the normally cool and carefree young man. "Not quite what I was worried about, kiddo." He said pulling Harry into a one armed hug.

When Harry frowned up at him in confusion, Bill just smiled with a fond yet sad look and said, "You've been through the wars, haven't you, sweetheart."

It was not a question.

Harry glanced up at the endearment, confused. Charlie had started calling him love and using fond names like that. It was very odd. Harry did not understand it at all. It was nice, but why were they saying those things to him? Why were they still doing it? This one did not feel like he could dismiss it as a mistake.

But Bill just wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close to his side for a moment, "come on. Let's go help, Hermione."

This time when Harry looked all traces of sadness were gone from his face.

Harry and Hermione explored the alley that afternoon after Bill had left. They were slowly making their way down to 'Laughing Skull Language Apothecary.'

They'd decided to take a break from everything and were mostly window shopping as they went.

They poked about the 'Grumping Gorgon' the used book shop, and it was rather hard to leave without purchasing more books than he could rightly afford.

Harry and Hermione even ventured into some of the shops in outer Knocturne too. Harry returned to 'Borgin and Burks' junk shop, which still looked just as dodgy as it had last time. It was both horrifying and fascinating. He thought it seemed dark as apposed to Darke. But it was still interesting. Harry was tempted to buy the hand of glory, mostly because it was seriously cool, and wouldn't that be so useful! But also partly because Malfoy had wanted it.

He'd managed to pick a few pockets so far while he was in the alley, enough to pay Dobby, but he hadn't earnt or scrounged enough to even buy his own socks, let alone a Hand of Glory. He didn't have the money for something so frivolous, just too irritate someone he didn't even like disliking.

Hermione ducked into 'The Forsaken Escape Book Shop,' and Harry slipped in and out of the crowed his fingers slipping deftly into peoples pockets and nicking a few coins here and there. It was getting easier too for him to sense the wards around things with his finger tips, so he knew not to try getting into a warded pocket or purse.

It was getting easier too, to tell who was local enough to know to look out for pickpocketing, and who was new enough to the alley to be fair game. It wasn't that Harry didn't know that it was wrong to steal. He knew that. He just didn't care.

He had no money of his own that was not controlled by the headmaster. He had bills to pay (Dobby during the rest of the year,) underwear he wanted to buy, exam fees at the ministry to pay for and who knows what other essentials would come up, especially if he didn't want to go back to the Dursley's next summer.

But he soon managed to scrounge enough coin to buy his own underwear. Thank the goddess. Though he had to admit after going commando his whole life, refusing to wear Dudley's old jocks, it was odd to be wearing them. He couldn't believe how good it felt to be wearing some of his own clothes even if it was just undergarments and his own second-hand things from the Room of Requirement. He felt so much more confident and less like a dirty-street-rat nobody.

'Tombed to Fail' was another junk shop that they found on the way to Hookturne Alley next to 'Arcanely Minded,' which only sold leather-bound books over 100 years old.

'Silver Feathered Serpent' sold reptiles. That had been a fun place to stop in. A lot of the snakes were very chatty, and Harry really had to restrain himself from purchasing a sassy female snake called Sebastian.

The 'Grimm Guard' sold pets and familiars; the 'Broken Rose Hoodoo Shop,' sold spell and ritual supplies. Seeing Skeletons was a fortune teller selling divination related things. Interestingly enough, any fortunes told on the bottom floor were all fraudulent nonsense for tourists. Any fortunes given on the top floor were always the real deal according to the local scuttlebutt. It depended on which fortune you asked for, and all the locals knew to ask for the upper floor, not the cheaper downstairs one.

'Death Zone Distillery' was an alcohol shop they were both too young to enter, and when they tried, without reading the name properly (their eyes attracted to all the interesting coloured bottles in the window), the doorway flared red and didn't let them cross.

So that is what the age line around the goblet _should_ have done, Harry thought, amused.

Thankfully the owner was used to his doorway thwarting underage magicals and thought the whole thing was rather funny. Especially when he saw their shocked faces. They still got a stinging hex as punishment. Not that it hit them. They were both too good at dodging by that stage.

Harry nearly lost Hermione to 'Florettes Floating Quill's,' a stationary shop. Then there was 'Hells Kitchen Cauldron Shop', 'Absinth Angel Apothecary' and 'Paynes Poisons & Potions' the latter of which sold only completed potions, unlike the apothecary which only sold ingredients.

Finally, they turned down Hookturn and found 'Laughing Skull's Language Apothecary.'

Interestingly enough, Harry didn't spot any potions on the shop floor, plenty of dictionary's and sheets on the potions and the languages but not the potions themselves. Then he looked again and spotted a glass cabinet filled with potions behind the counter. There were hundreds of them in every colour imaginable. And he could sense the thick layer of wards they were behind from the door way.

"Wow," Hermione said, looking around at the languages available and the prices.

It seemed that human languages were the cheapest, and creature languages costed more. Harry winced at the prices. He figured his mother had been well off after her inheritance to be able to afford the flat, but seeing the language potions just gave him an idea of just how much she'd inherited or just how much she must have made from her potion selling business. It was interesting that she'd spent what was left on language potions.

He felt bitter for a moment if only she'd left some money in her vault. But then he scolded himself. He was doing okay for himself. And he still had his vault. He just couldn't get to it for the moment. His mother wouldn't have thought he'd need extra gold. Why shouldn't she have spent her inheritance on learning languages? Especially as by the sounds of it she hadn't been aware he'd been on the way then anyway, and had plans to travel the world.

He picked up a book on the history of language potions and flicked through it. Interestingly enough, they were not a new phenomenon. They had been around for ages. It made sense really, Harry supposed. How else would Crouch speak over 200 languages?

Hermione bought herself; Mermish and Gaelic to start with. She already spoke French, and her Latin and Ancient Greek were going well. She figured they'd done in useful, and there were some books in the restricted section written in Gaelic.

They were both a little shocked by the sheer amount of languages available, both human and non-human. Harry was interested to note however, that there wasn't a Parseltongue potion.

The two of them put their heads together over an index of potions available and plotted which ones would be the best to learn to plot with, the least likely to be spoken by others.

They giggled and conspired against the world, for a moment like carefree children planning mischief without a care in the world, the way neither of them had ever had the luxury of doing.

They made it back just in time for work that evening and luckily being in the inn was just as interesting as outside of it in the alley, or they'd not have been able to concentrate on their work with all the new things they'd seen and learnt.

END NOTES:

I update Saturday morning Australian EST

No I'm not going to update twice weekly, but nice try. And I'm honoured that you like my work enough to ask.

Stay safe.


	55. Chapter 55 Another Talk With Charlie

Harry slipped out onto the roof on the 'Hung Drawn n Quarters' that night during his break before the dinner rush. Bill had called him sweetheart. He and Charlie had both called him kiddo before. That wasn't new, they'd done it over the summer too, and used it on their siblings all the time.

But sweetheart was new and he couldn't get it out of his head. Charlie had done it too. And he had called Harry Love.

Why? It made him feel oddly warm and fuzzy. He liked it. Too much. But it was strangely alien too. It had been happening for a little while now. But at first, it was just every so often. Harry had dismissed it as a slip of habit, from being used to talking to siblings or friends. But he didn't think he could dismiss it now.

He didn't understand.

That wasn't how the world worked. He was Harry, Boy, the freak under the stairs. He was Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Weapon. He could get his head around being allowed to have friends and hugs. But terms of affection? It seemed too strange for anyone to use it on the likes of him...

Letting out a huff, he took out his mirror; he'd ask Charlie about it. Charlie would be able to explain it. He often talked to Charlie on his break via the mirrors. And Charlie didn't seem to mind waking (however briefly) to talk to him.

"Bill called me Sweetheart again," Harry said instead of a greeting.

Charlie smiled in a fondly indulgent way. As if Harry was missing something obvious.

"Yeah, he does that. I do to actually come to think of it. He's very affectionate with those he likes. Does it bother you? He'll stop," Charlie said earnestly. It reminded Harry very much of the same conversation he had had with Bill about Charlie's hugging. And Harry wondered if Charlie was talking about himself as well.

"I don't understand. I've never been called anything affectionate. At all, ever. Why would he? Why would either of you?! I don't get it. People don't talk about me affectionately. Why would you do that?" Harry said bluntly, with honest confusion.

Charlie looked at him for a long moment through the mirror, and Harry felt like Charlie was looking into his very soul.

Charlie's voice was full of affection and a deep sadness Harry didn't understand, as he said, "Harry, sweetheart..." as if the name just slipped out. And again Harry felt a bit warm and fuzzy, and as if his world was slightly off-kilter.

"Names like that, nicknames or terms of endearments, are used for people you like and care for. It's one of the ways Bill shows he cares."

When Harry just stared at him dumbfounded, Charlie's brow furrowed, and he asked, "shall I tell Bill to stop? Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"No? I... I think I like it?" Harry said, frowning slightly, "I'm just not used to it. It's just weird."

Charlie smiled, "well if you don't dislike it, sweetheart, you'd better get used to it then. It will happen a lot. Especially once Bill knows you don't mind." Charlie said.

It was as if Harry admitting he didn't mind the names had given Charlie the excuse to finally allow himself to use them a lot more than he'd previously been allowing himself.

"I'm a hermit," Charlie continued, "I don't like people. And Bill's an introvert too, -ish, but he likes people, more than I do, and can talk to them. They make sense to him, I think. but with the people he really likes-"

"like your exception list?" Harry cut in.

"Just so," Charlie nodded, "he has an exception list too. But while he doesn't mind being around most people, as long as he gets time alone to recharge, his list is who he really likes enough to use names with. He's a hugger too, but he likes using names to show he cares about people."

Harry nodded slowly, "it's nice, feeling cared for."

Charlie's eyes crinkled, "yeah, it is, isn't it? He often calls me 'brother mine.' Some people think it's possessive and weird. But that's not how he means it. I think it's more that he cares about me and considers me one of his own. Not in a possession way, but in as part of that small group he really truly cares for that's close to his heart. I'm one of his people."

Harry thought about it a moment, and wondered if Charlie's use of names was something he picked up from his older brother, "sounds nice," he said.

"It doesn't bother you, Harry, love?"

Harry started, staring at Charlie at the name. That one was new. No-one had ever used that word on him.

"Why do call me that?" he asked suddenly, it came out slightly sharper than he meant.

"What, love? Didn't we just talk about this, sweetheart?" Charlie asked confused.

"No, why do you call me that?" Harry asked, surprised and agitated all of a sudden. Disbelieving. "Do you love me?"

He could get his head around Bill and Charlie liking him, almost. But love? No-one loved him. No-one loved the Freak in the Cupboard Under the Stairs.

"Of course I do. You're my friend. Of course I care about you. You're family, one of my people. You're on the exception list, love. I don't like many people really, but I love every one of that list."

"But how can you?" Harry asked, trying not to snap, not understanding the sudden sharp proof that Charlie genuinely cared for him.

"Just because I'm ace doesn't mean I'm not capable of love," he snapped, "I thought you understood that."

Harry flinched backwards, looking horrified, but before he could say anything, Charlie went on, "I'm not broken, Harry. There are many different types of love. Just because I don't do sex, doesn't mean I don't do love. Of course I can love."

Harry winced again at the sudden return of his proper name.

"Friends, brothers, family, partners," Charlie went on, clearly hurt, "there is more than one type of love and affection. And none of it's a bad thing. You're my friend, one of the few people I actually don't hate being around. Of course, I love you, Harry. You're one of my people."

That wasn't what he had meant! The hurt that Charlie's anger hid broke Harry's heart a bit, and he felt oddly teary.

"Of course you can love Charlie! That's not what I meant! Of course I understand that," Harry said pleadingly, not wanting to lose his friend, not wanting his friend hurt because of him, "but no ones ever said that to me." he said quietly, "that they love me, they don't- you can't- I don't... I don't understand."

Charlie's face crumpled, "ah, shit, love." He swore softly, understanding now, what Harry was struggling to say. He scrubbed a hand over his face looking upwards for a moment.

"I'm really sorry." he said, looking at Harry earnestly, "It's a bit of a saw spot, I shouldn't have assumed you meant I was broken."

"Your not!" Harry said, "because if you are, then it means I am too. And I don't want us to be broken, Charlie! I don't want to be broken anymore!"

"We're not broken, Harry love. I promise. You are loved. You're loved. You're important, and you matter Harry. You. Matter."

Harry pressed his lips together tightly and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He felt dizzy. Sick. He thought the world might be spinning around him.

Charlie was talking still, but it took Harry a while to hear what he was saying, "you matter Harry and that's okay. You're okay, sweetheart. Just breathe, just breathe."

Harry was still unprepared for the warmth that it kindled in his chest. It almost hurt, to have someone, to have people who cared. Who cared, for him. Who loved him.

He looked up at Charlie.

"I don't think I know what love is Charlie," Harry admitted at a whisper, "but your important Charlie, you're so important."

There was a pause; it was almost fearful, "I think I trust you."

Despite it being spoken so softly that Charlie could bearly hear it, there was weight behind those words. So much weight.

"I trust you, Charlie," Harry said, "and I don't understand love, but I trust you."

"Shit, love, I hate these mirrors sometimes."

Harry snorted wetly, when had he started crying? And nodded.

"I wish I could hug you," Charlie said, sounding strained.

Harry nodded again before saying, "Hey, Charlie?"

"Yeah, love?"

Harry smiled at the name this time, "thank you," he said his throat thick.

"Any time love. Any time."

Harry just smiled, "it's so strange. You and Bill caring, and Hermione. Though that's not as new, but lately, we've been really close, and the twins. And Neville and Luna and the Slytherins now. It's like having friends. Real friends, not just people you don't hate that you spend time with because you have to and kind of like. No, this, I think, is like having family, Charlie, and it's so weird and strange, and I don't understand it at all, but I don't want it to end. It frightens me, Charlie.

Sometimes I think it was easier on the streets, sometimes when it was just me."

"What?!" Charlie cried out, horrified.

"Well, when it was just me," Harry said, missing the point, "I didn't have to watch for anyone else. I had nothing to lose, so nothing could hurt me. At least until I always ended up back at the Dursley's. Still not sure how that happened all the time. I think that must be some of the stuff that was obliviated," he said idly, before continuing.

"Now I have you and Bill and Hermione and the twins. And... I think... the loss of it would kill me. I don't think I'd be able to put all the pieces of myself back together after that if anything happened to you; to any of you. It's terrifying. I try not to think of it, its been getting worse, or... stronger? Since they all walked out for me.

And they're going to kidnap someone, Charlie, probably Hermione for the second task. I'm really scared!

Not just losing any of you, but what I'd do to stop it. Or what I'd do to avenge them."

"It's okay to feel Harry," Charlie said earnestly, "it's okay to care deeply for people. It's not a bad thing."

Harry nodded slowly, but before he could say anything else jumped as Hermione tapped on the window and beckoned him to come in.

"I have to go, I've run out of break time more quickly than I thought. Catch you later?"

Charlie nodded, an odd look on his face, "yeah love, we'll talk later. Look after yourself okay kiddo?" he said, sounding strangely hoarse.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, zeroing in on it, feeling worried.

Charlie nodded wordlessly waving him off.

Harry looked at him for a long moment, ignoring Hermione's more frantic tapping on the window, before waving at Charlie and closing the connection.

Harry made a 'just a tick,' hand gesture to Hermione and paused long enough to tap his mirror and say Bill's name. When Bill appeared, he said, "I have to go, but I just hung up on Charlie, and he sounds weird. Can you check on him when you get a minute?"

Bill nodded, "course, everything okay, sweetheart?"

Harry smile at the name, "we had a conversation about that; terms of endearment and love and stuff. He seems funny now. I think I upset him. I didn't mean to! But now I have to go to work. My break's over and it's about to get busy again... so I can't fix it. Can you make sure he's okay, Bill?" Harry asked earnestly, "I don't know what I did wrong. But I didn't mean to upset him, honest!"

"Course I will, don't you worry about it. I'm pretty sure I can guess what's up and it's not your fault. I'll make sure he's okay."

Harry looked seriously at him for a moment and Bill said, "I promise, I'll check on Charlie, sweetheart. I'll make sure he's okay."

"Thank's Bill!" Harry said, closing the connection with a wave and hurrying in to join Hermione.

And so the rest of the holiday passed. Harry and Hermione explored the alley more and got to know it. Hermione came to like it, though it was clear she wasn't nearly as comfortable with it as Harry was, who felt right at home in it.

Harry loved Nocturne. It was the most freedom he'd ever had in his life, and he was loath to leave it. He felt safe and comfortable in Nocturne, able to be himself; sharp, harsh, ugly edges and all. He was free to find out who he was here.

Harry was also still picking up all sorts of tidbits of information. He liked it here he thought later that evening towards the end of the dinner rush. For example, despite being nocturnal, they still called the first meal of the day, breakfast even if it was eaten around sunset. Lunch was still lunch despite being at midnight, not midday. Dinner likewise, was still called dinner despite being held at sunrise, which was the end of their nocturnal day.

Harry also used the opportunity Nocturne gave him, to brush up on some rather choice survival skills that he'd neglected while under Dumbledore's magic. Light fingers were among them, to Hermione's slight disapproval. But he made sure not to target the locals; there was an unspoken rule that you didn't pickpocket locals, but those that Nocturne considered outsiders were fair game.

Between that and now getting paid by Morbid he managed to scrounge enough money to pay Dobby for the rest of the year and buy the Hand of Glory. Something that had he and Hermione snickering over. It was frivolous no matter how useful it would be. But he'd always been so carful. It was nice to buy something just because he could.

Besides he'd managed to put a little money aside for the summer just in case and Morbid had agreed to take him back on during the summer so he would be all set.

Harry and Hermione (and Bill when he was around) kept practising duelling. Though it was now more defence and fighting than proper clean duelling, though Bill had made sure they knew how to do formal duels too.

Harry kept working on his Occlumency and sorting his memory's. It was still slow and painful. So many of his memories were unpleasant or traumatic, and he'd rather not look at any of them, despite knowing how important it was and how important 'know thy self' was.

After some debate, they decided to use the time-turner while they were on break, to try and catch up on some of their new OWL subjects. They did, after all, have a lot to do if they wanted to manage all the OWLs and NEWTs. They had initially tried going back in 12 hours blocks. But they found through trial and error it was much easier to do the full 24 to allow themselves adequate extra time to eat and rest as well, without getting their sleeping schedules too messed up. So they continued to spend the rest of the week going back one full day for every day they had left of the holidays. All time spent in the past was spent in the trunk, for the moment, and Harry had started coming up with ideas for where they could set up a secure study spot at Hogwarts.

Hermione caught up to Harry in is his WEA studied dishearteningly quickly. But they settled into an enjoyable competitive one-up-manship. They debated essays and quizzed each other on their work, trying to see who knew the material better and catch the other out with a question they couldn't answer. It was surprisingly enjoyable. Harry had always shied away from competitiveness because it often hurt him, or ended up with being beaten up.

But he knew Hermione. And she made it clear that she enjoyed it, and meant nothing harsh by her competitiveness. And really, it had motivated them to get a lot done. They worked out their study plan for their extracurricular studies and the time turner. And if they followed the new schedule right, with the time-turner, they should be on track to complete some early 'easy' OWLs with the Slytherins that summer.

They were planing on taking Politics, Etiquette and Culture, Estate Management, Languages and Flying. Though Hermione wasn't too keen on the idea of Flying and Harry had yet to coax her onto a broom. They had made good progress on her fear of heights though, and she was already a whizz at the theory.

Harry was learning more every day and picking up more and more and from the locals. There seemed to some kind of unspoken language among the Darke. And they all seemed to know each other and know who was and wasn't a part of it. It was fascinating and frustrating as he felt like an outsider. It was something he was used to, but he disliked it all the same.

He was getting really fond of the Darke. Especially as the longer he was in Nocturne, the more he picked up or was shown by some of the darke locals.

Fern, one of the local werewolves, finally explained to Harry why people kept pocketing bits of food or vanishing a tiny portion of food from their plates, he'd even noticed some people burn bits.

"It's an offering," Fern explained slowly when he caught Harry watching him. He had waved Harry over and pattered the bench seat next to him.

Harry sat.

"Respect is big here, especially to magic. And many who follow the old ways are big on respecting magic, the old ways, and our culture. One of the ways we show respect is with offerings. Particularly to magic herself, Mother Magic, though also to one's personal deities. People do that in different ways. Some will place an apple on their alter or at their deities feet every day, or once a week, or once a month. The timing and ritual of it often varies and is personal." Fern explained, and Harry made a mental note to ask Bill or Charlie about alters later.

"Some will make an offering at each meal. Each time they eat something, they'll often keep a bit as an offering for magic, or their deity. Deity offerings often vanish, not with a vanishing spell but more with wild will magic. You close your eyes and focus on what you're grateful for, and what you're offering. The deities magic vanishes, or burns it, accepting the offering.

An offering can also be left out and will vanish when it's accepted. Another way to do this is to leave an offering for the local spirits, beings, or deities. Different places have local gods too.

We have a nest of pixies in the well back home, in Cork. We leave them offerings every moon, and they leave us alone during the month and watch over us during the moon madness," the werewolf continued.

"Same with bowtruckles. If you want some of their wood you need to make an offering, a tithe, woodlice generally. People forget what it really is. It's not bribery or a distraction or a means of controlling them," Fern explained scornfully. "It's a thank you, a gratefulness and an offering. It's not controlling creatures. It's simply respect.

Another way to do it is to will it, offering something up to magic. That's what happens when people burn food. You either light it with a flame spell, or you close your eyes, sometimes with it in your hand, or on your plate. It doesn't matter how you do it. It's the intention that matters.

And you focus on what you're thankful for and why you're offering it up and magic will burn it as it accepts it. It won't hurt, but it's more obvious that way. So many people take bits of food to do later in privacy. It's not safe, you see."

And Harry thought of all the times he'd seen Bill pocket something from the table. Harry had assumed it was just leftovers or something to eat later, but now he wondered if it was actually an offering. Bill and Charlie had both done it. They'd been careful not to get caught, but Harry noticed things like that.

Harry, himself often pocketed food to make sure he had something to eat later; in case he was starved again. After a summer at the Dursley's, it was always a hard habit to break. He'd thought he'd seen Mrs Weasley frown at them disapprovingly a time or two over the summer when she'd caught them. But now he wondered if it was more to it than just saving food for later.

Later that evening when Harry went on break, he took his bowl of Stone soup up to the roof. Stone Soup actually had very little to do with stones. It was a Hag dish, and the soup itself was cooked in a stone bowl over an open fire for four days strait.

Harry quite liked it. It was sweet and spicy and made from some kind of purple tuber that Harry had never heard of before. But other than being a key ingredient in stone soup, when it was dried and pressed under a full moon and made into tea, the tuber offered relief from arthritis.

He sat on the roof looking up at the sliver of moon and thought for a moment before taking a spoon full of soup on his spoon and holding it up in front of him. He looked at the spoon for a moment and wished.

He was grateful for the food, and his roof and his people. But he was most grateful for his magic and freedom. He didn't know whether he was offering it to Hekate or magic herself, but either way, he was intensely grateful. And he was willing to sacrifice a bit of his soup to show that.

Something tingled in his chest and travelled down along his fingertips. The spoonful of soup burst into flames; tiny black and purple flames that thrummed with magic. It was an exhilarating feeling. And somehow he knew Hekate and magic had heard his thanks and accepted his offer.

He grinned.

The other interesting thing he learnt that evening was from the old crone in the corner of the inn. She was sitting by the fire wrapped in a shawl, weaving dream catchers. The Crone had been there all evening grumbling and demanding frozen Firewisky as she made them. Her hands were knobbly and seemed clumsy and stiff. But despite that, she wove the thread around the wooden hoops with a deft hand that belied her arthritic joints. Despite how grumpy she was and how snarky, Harry couldn't help but watch her, fascinated. She was a regular and he'd often watched her making them.

She must have noticed him, and not been to bothered by it as she beckoned him over with a crooked finger. He went over to her. She explained the process as she went, and had him copy her.

She had plenty of hawthorn twigs and sticky acromantula silk to bind the circle with. When she offered to make him one, he offered to add a string of unicorn hair and thestral hair to the sticky silk to add healing properties and endurance to the mix.

He had plenty of the hairs now after spending so much time in the forest. She grinned crookedly at him when he handed over two of each. One was for the knowledge she was sharing and one for the dream catcher itself.

It was fiddly work, and she grumbled when he said he'd never braided before. But she taught him how and then helped him to weave the cord around the hawthorn to make it into a circle. She added feathers and some beads that she'd pulled from somewhere, showing him how to make the tails. Then she blew on it softly, activating its magic before handing it to him.

She said, "keep it above your bed and hang it under the moon to recharge when it gets too heavy," before demanding another frozen Firewisky.

The first time he hung it over his bed, he didn't have nearly as many nightmares and wakes up to find silver-grey fuzz on the strands. He picks them off and gets an impression of the nightmares he missed and banishes them with a flick of his wand.

Side note: Charlie's upset at the revelation that harry inadvertently admits to about his childhood. Charlie finds it heartbreaking. That's why he's upset. Bill guesses this. Charlie's sad that harry grew up in such a shit situation.


	56. Chapter 56 New Year

This is the last chapter in Nocturne, next chapter they head back to school. But I couldn't resist another ritual.

Harry read more of his mum's books on the Darke and on her goddess Hekate. He was getting fond of the Darke. While he felt he might be ready to dedicate himself to his mother's goddess, (his goddess, he corrected himself), he wasn't sure he was quite ready to take that step towards the Darke.

It felt big.

He had gotten the impression it was a life choice, that once he made it, he would not be able to go back on it. It was permanent. Dedicating himself to the Darke felt like a seriously big deal in a way dedicating himself to Hekate wasn't. But he hadn't figured out what that meant yet, but they felt different.

While Harry felt drawn to the Darke, Hermione didn't feel the same call. For him, it was like coming home and finding somewhere to belong. He wasn't sure if it was Nocturne or the Darke, but he wanted it; desperately. He didn't think she'd really consider becoming Darke, but she seemed as fascinated by it as she was by everything new.

She was especially interested in Harry's new practice of making offerings at each meal, (however sceptical she was about the existence of gods or godesses.) Harry had taken to always offering a little piece of whatever he was eating to magic as that was the thing that he was most reverent of.

Magic had given him his freedom back. Magic had given him himself back. Magic was in everything; in the earth, the forest he found sanctuary in, the alley he found peace and community in, and the magic within him that gave him a sense of belonging and home. Magic was everything, and he was most desperately thankful for it.

After finding out about offerings, trying it himself and feeling that connection to something; Harry couldn't not offer something at each meal. It was a small price to pay really. And he'd found ever since he had started, his magic, which had been wild and chaotic since the unbinding had eased.

It seemed to have settled slightly and was easer to work with now. After being suppressed and bound for years, it felt to Harry like having, while not another person inside him, but something else. Something that was other and yet was intrinsically him. If felt as if it had its own wants and instincts. It had taken a while to settle down and for Harry to come to a balance of the two halves of himself.

But since he'd started following the old ways and making offerings, it had settled. It was as if the magic had started to trust him again, to feel at home within him again. As if it had started to trust that he wanted it, wouldn't abandon it and reject it again. No matter how much it hadn't been Harry's fault. But Harry didn't begrudge his magic of that fear. After all, he understood better than most the kind of irrational fears trauma could bring.

Harry also made an offering to Hekate each night at bedtime. He didn't do it at every meal, as he felt making on to magic, would by association offer reverence to Hekate too. She was, after all, an entity of magic and belief. He was grateful for her help with the ritual and also felt that in making an offering to her, he was a little closer to his mother.

Hermione had been fascinated to watch him hold a piece of meat in his hand and close his eyes. When he then opened them, the food would be gone as if it had not been there at all. She still didn't understand how he could believe in gods, but she did try making an offering herself to magic. But while Harry found the practice to be comforting, to connect to something more, she found it uncomfortable and overwhelming.

"It feels weird. I don't understand it. I don't like it," she said, staring at the edge of the plate where the bit of food had been, "it makes me feel too... Stretched out? Overexposed? It just feels... weird." She shivered, "too big."

Harry talked to the regulars more and soaked up every scrap he could get. The more they started openly practising some of the little things that were part of the Darke culture, the more the nocturne alley locals were happy to share with him.

One of the many tidbits they had shared was the practice of a form of candle magic. A wish or a prayer to their god or goddess was carved into a candle. The colour of the candle depended on the theme, topic or mood of the pray or wish, and the candle was lit and burned to power it. Candles could be anointed in certain oils to bless them. Burning a blue candle that had been anointed with Jasmin or Lavender, as one went to sleep would bring peaceful dreams.

The colours of the candles chosen and the oils all had different meanings and could be combined to bring different things. It was a fascinating old form of magic that Harry was delighted to learn, especially when he scoured his mum's trunk and fount a small book on it.

Another thing they were told was to make sure they went to bed with a coin in their pocket on the last day of the year to bring a prosperous new year.

The Darke were a superstitious lot, he found. And while Hermione scoffed at it, saying that however interesting the history and reasoning behind the superstitions were, there was no proof.

She didn't say it in a harsh unkind way, but she just didn't see it the way they did. And Harry wondered if it was her muggle upbringing? Muggle superstitions were seen as old wives tales. But then he'd been muggle raised, and it seemed to make perfect illogical sense to him.

The darke superstitions were a little different too they soon learnt. Most of the time, they channelled wild or ambient magic, in tiny spells and rituals. For example, belief in the coin bringing good luck for the new year worked like a small ritual and prayer and often did bring a prosperous year. Knocking on wood would (if it was a live tree) call the attention of the spirit within, and would often bring a tingle of magic to ward of bad luck if you knocked on wood that was no longer alive.

Tying a knot in a handkerchief warded off evil and was a minor spell in an older branch of lesser-used knot magic. Then there was the direction things were stirred in. If one was drinking tea from someone, you didn't quite trust you would stir it in a widdershins direction, to banish any bad luck. Whereas if it was stirred in a deosil direction, it would bring good luck.

He also picked up how to stir a cup of tea with a mere circle of his finger, without actually touching it. And that channeling magic directly into a drink, to stir it widdershins could (with practice) banish poison or something someone else had added to it.

This harry found himself practicing a lot. He got Hermione to add different things to his tea so he could practice sensing them and banishing them with the old magic. That would come in handy when he got back to school if Dumbledore tried to potion him again.

Then there was the belief that standing in a circle would protect you from evil spirits. It really would, but what the circle was made of would effect what it would protect you from and how well it would do the protecting. Iron would protect you from the fae. Salt would protect you from most bad things with varying degrees of success, especially against benevolent ghosts, and spirits.

Then there were a bunch of other things seen by the darke to be signs as well. A ring around a moon would bring rain; when leaves were turned upward on a tree, a storm would be coming and catching a leaf in autumn foretold good health in winter.

It was really very interesting, all the small tidbits he picked up. Useful things and small bits of magic that they missed out on at Hogwarts.

Slowly the word spread in the alley that Morbid's Boy (and his sister Jean, as Hermione went by) was a good worker and had been accepted as one of Nocturne's. Harry got two job offers of cleaning when word spread that he'd cleaned up the Hung Drawn' n' Quarters.

Between cleaning the apothecary and the tattoo parlour, (and boy was he interested in that) as well as working for Morbid, he kept himself busy (when he was not in his trunk under the time turner.)

He ended up with some galleons he hadn't had before, along with not so legally pierced ears to put the fang earring in over the summer. The piercer used a piercing hex, followed by putting the jewellery in (which hurt, a lot) then using a healing spell on them. It would then instantly heal the wound around the earring. It was quicker than muggle piercings, which sometimes took months to heal. But still hurt and was messy. Harry thought he could come up with a better way to do it. He wasn't, however stupid enough to say that when someone was poking an earring into the bloody hole in his ear lobe.

He also picked up some plain silver rings and studs to practice enchanting and warding. He had loads of ideas about how he could start doing piercings. He thought he wouldn't mind some more piercings and there were so many possibilities for what he could do with the jewellery!

Maybe a translation earring? He knew there were translation spells, so he would just need to work out how to get an earring to do the same thing. He also wanted something to detect harmful magic or foreign magic near him. Something to detect poisons or potions in food would be good too. Or something that would neutralise them... The list was endless. And exciting!

Hermione was at first horrified by the idea of Harry doing his own piercings. But when he explained his idea, she then demanded that when he figured out how to do it safely (and she knew he would), she wanted her's done.

Unfortunately for him, she didn't let him talk the tattooist into giving him a tattoo. And frankly, with the way wizards did it, burning an image into the skin with a spell... that was probably a good thing.

Privately, Harry thought the muggle method might be preferable, though wizarding tattoos could be spelled to move... He'll have to work on that if he really wanted one.

The other thing that was great about Nocturne was that if you had someone to vouch for you (Bill and Morbid), the shop owners were willing to trade and haggle for goods. With was why Harry spent a day cleaning up 'Crier Dans le Noir (Screaming in the Dark) and 'The Clothes Queen of Darkness.'

Both shops were found at #39 Nocturne Proper. They were sisters. One sold robes, cloaks and traditional wizarding clothes with a dark modern twist, and the other sold, well... to be honest, they were really cool muggle looking clothes. Both shops had been recommended by Bill, who got most of his clothes there. And the owners were willing to give Harry an outfit or two in exchange for cleaning.

Between the cleaning and saved wages, Harry finally managed to scrounge up enough to get himself his own wardrobe. It was glorious! The sisters from those two shops and Hermione were more than happy to outfit him. He had ended up with several pairs of nice black pants and shirts in dark colours. All of them were comfortable and practical, but really cool! They had things like warming and cooling charms that he could activate at will, as well as general anti-wear charms, anti-staining charms and the shop assistant had even put a growth charm on them for him!

He also ended up with a very warm black cloak, several cool waistcoats and some day robes he could wear over his new clothes. He had taken a liking to the stylish (if old fashioned) frock coat styled robes instead of the dress-like sacks that were Hogwarts school robes.

And Harry had to admit that it was both odd and strangely exhilarating to have his own clothes. He felt like a new person, and it mazed him how much a difference it actually made, having his very own clothes.

It was strange too, having tops and shirts that fit, as well as pants. At first, he'd been sure they'd given him too small a size. That was something Hermione had found very funny. She'd had a fit of giggles before she explained that no, they were not too small. That's what it was meant to be like. Yes, they really weren't too small. They were meant to sit close to the skin, and not fall off him, that was what jeans were meant to be like when they weren't far too many sizes too big. It was called having clothes that actually fitted.

It was odd at first, but after a life of wearing Dudley's saggy seconds, he found he really liked clothes that fit and was coming to loath baggy clothes.

They woke on new years eve to Nocturne preparing for a party; a festival really. Every year the alley celebrated surviving another year. They held the festival in the park square in the heart of Nocturne. There was music and dancing, and while their proper new year festival was held on Samhain, the witches new year, they did celebrate the end of the calendar year as well. And the financial year, actually, any excuse for a party, Bill had said with a laugh. Nocturne was a friendly bunch once they stopped hating you and trying to stab you in the back.

There was plenty of food, a bonfire, coloured lanterns floating, and market stalls selling things. Music was playing, and the square was crowded. There were fireworks, and children skating on the pond over on one side of the park. Someone seemed to have enlarged it as the pond seemed far bigger than Harry had seen it and despite how full it was, there seemed to still be plenty of room for people to skate and jump around on.

Hermione eagerly dragged Harry over. One of the nearby parents kindly showed them the incantation to transfigure their shoes into ice skates so that Hermione could try to teach Harry to skate.

She was rather good at it, skating that was. Harry... not so much. It was very different from walking, more like sliding his feet down and out a bit. It made little sense to him, but it somehow worked to propel him forward.

The ice was so slippery! But in the end, he managed to get the hang of it, and could mostly make it around on his own. Though he was envious of the way Hermione easily turned in circles and skated backwards without a though, making it look so easy.

"I didn't know you knew how to ice skate? Why didn't you show us this in third-year when the lake froze over?" Harry asked as they were gliding around the edge of the ice.

"I was so busy catching up on work then, besides we were all fighting that Christmas," she said.

Harry sobered at the thought, but said, "when did you learn?"

Hermione sighed, "A holiday sports program I did over the school holidays a couple of years back. Mum and dad were starting up their business when I rocked up. They had to work a lot when I was young. They were too busy to take time off over the holidays. So they kept me busy too. I went to a lot of after school programs and holiday programs. It was often something educational." She said doing an elegant spin on the ice, deftly avoiding a wobbling child who looked as if they were about to crash into her.

"One year it was Piano and drawing. I'm terrible at both of those. Another year was ballet, not my favourite kind of dancing. I liked ballroom better. Then there was French another year. I really liked that. I kept it up. I'm almost fluent now, and it was good when we went to France." She said, leading them around the ice on another circle and trying to teach Harry (unsuccessfully) how to skate backwards.

"It was certainly a great help in working out those french hexs after my name came out," Harry said

Hermione smiled, "also good for hurling their insults back in there faces when they thought they could talk about us without us knowing."

Harry grinned at her, laughing easily, then had to throw his hands out to stop himself falling on his face.

At midnight there was a big ritual to welcome the new year and bring luck and safety for the coming one.

They all held hands together in a huge circle for the ritual, around the bonfire. They took turns dancing around it and chanting, as well as leaping over it. New years wishes and offerings were thrown into the fire as well the thanks of things people were grateful for. The ritual involved a lot of chanting and singing, and it was great fun.

At the end of it, they finished it with a spiral dance. It was an old tradition to build power for the new year. The power crackled and positively sang in the air and was channelled into the protective enchantments around Nocturne. It was a big part of keeping the alley protected from muggles (and the ministry).

All the citizens of Nocturne linked arms again for the spiral dance, skipping in a long, grape-vining line, spiralling back and forwards around the fire. As it went, they chanted and moved faster and faster. It was invigorating and exhilarating. Harry was giggling freely stumbling around the fire with Hermione, Bill and the others, feeling slightly high with the magic and the joy. It felt like they were properly part of the alley now.

"I want this," Harry said quietly to Bill as the sun was rising higher in the sky. It was very late now by Nocturnes nocturnal standards.

Hermione was still dancing around the bonfire with Birdie, Furloff and Morbid. Harry and Bill were leaning against each other on the under a tree, Harry with a butterbeer and Bill with a something stronger. A goblin drink Harry couldn't remember the name of.

Bill flicked his wand lazily, and Harry could feel a subtle privacy ward go up.

"I want this. I want the darke." Harry said again, feeling something building in his chest, a longing that ached pleasantly.

"They aren't all darke here." Bill said easily, very relaxed, "some are just open-minded. You don't have to be darke to be one of the alley.

"I know. But I want this. I want the darke. I can feel it calling."

And Bill looked at Harry for a long moment, looking more serious than he had all night. He didn't say 'are you sure,' or 'you're too young to make that kind of choice.'

Instead, he just nodded, and said solemnly, "okay sweetheart. I understand," and hugged Harry, who hugged him back equally tightly.

Some tipsy werewolves shot off some more fireworks into the dawn sky. They flashed in faint rainbow showers above them. Pretty still, but far less impressive now that it was light.

"Charlie and I were only a bit older than you when we made our choice," Bill said quietly after a while.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, curious and pulled back about to look up at Bill.

"Yeah," Bill said, and there was something heavy in his voice. When Harry focused on him, he thought Bill felt sad. Sad, but with not a hint of regret.

"It was an easy choice for us to make, but it is a hard road sweetheart. If people who are not Darke, or who are not open-minded to the old ways or traditions know, or find out. Life, as you know it now, will be over. You'll get villainised." Bill said quietly.

"I know," Harry said, remembering the stories he'd heard sometimes in the early hours at the Hung Drawn' n' Quarters. He privately thought some of the elders there had purposely told the warning stories while he was wiping down tables. As if to warn him; to teach him. He'd picked up a lot of things that way, and was greatful for their storied.

They sat leaning against each other, watching people dancing drunkenly around the bonfire as Bill called Charlie.

Charlie was wide awake but looking a little tipsy, sitting around his the remains of a large bonfire on the preserve. They could hear his co-workers laughing. Dancing and singing badly, nearby. But it seemed Charlie was sitting off a little way from them, with a large mug of something, watching them fondly.

"Hey! Bill, Harry! Happy new year!" He chirped, smiling widely.

"I was telling Harry about the Darke, brother mine," Bill said

Charlie sobered a little then said, "he wants in then?"

"He wants in," Bill nodded.

"It's like coming home, Charlie," Harry said quietly peering into the mirror.

"Yeah..." Charlie said nostalgically. "yeah, it is. It's like having home and family."

Bill nodded.

"I figured we could tell him what we can about our initiation and journey," Bill said.

"But not about the..." Charlie trailed, scratching his cheek absently.

"No, just what's allowed."

"There are things you can't say?" Harry asked.

"Yep, some things are considered sacred knowledge only shared with other oath-bound dedicants," Charlie explained.

"There were things in Mum's journal about her dedication, but she left things out," Harry said.

"Well, we can tell you that there are two steps. There is the private personal dedication, which is the first step. Then there is the second step, the community initiation, where someone from the community will sponsor or support your application and then mentor you," Bill explained.

"Has initiation got something to do with how you all seem to know each other?" Harry asked.

"Very astute," Charlie said with a grin. He did not elaborate on how they knew each other on sight but did go on to tell Harry what he could about their journey into the darke.

END NOTES

Deosil is sunwise (so East to west, or anticlockwise here in the southern hemisphere)

Widdershins is anti-sunwise.

For more on the spiral dance (which is an awesome thing to be part off see: wiki/ Spiral_dance


	57. Chapter 57 Godric's Hollow

Sorry it's a bit later than usual, I was bought my first car this morning. Its a small stick shift and is bright green. I'm rather pleased with it.

On a more related note, this is the chapter they leave Nocturne top go back to school, with a side trip.

0o0o0o0

Harry woke up on the second of January, their last day in Nocturne, exhausted but calm. It had been a busy week, but a good one. And possibly the first time in his life he had felt truly free to be himself.

It was an addictive liberating feeling. He felt like the alley had become home, and he liked the people, and they seemed to have accepted him as one of their own. For the first time since he was a young child, he felt like himself again.

He was heartbroken to leave the alley. It was busy, dark and cozy. There was always a hint of a threat. The people are interesting and fascinatingly odd. And despite their prickly cautious nature, they' were kind enough once they start seeing him as 'Morbid's boy,' as one of them, one of their own.

They're like him. They don't fit in anywhere else. They'd didn't care that he had scares, they didn't stare when they saw, and they didn't ask. Because other than his lightning bolt scar he's not about to hide them all. Why should he?

The alley felt like home now. And for the first time, he was sad for the holidays to come to an end. And while he had considered sneaking into the forest for the Ostara break, he thought maybe instead he'd go back to Nocturne, he liked the people and thought he'd probably miss them.

He said goodbye to the regulars at The Hung Drawn n Quarters on Friday. Furloff, Birdie, Klaus, Fern, Ripgut the grumpy goblin who liked the tentacular curry, and the Crone, the dream catcher weaver that no-one knew the name of.

Secretly Harry just thought The Crone, liked everyone's confusion and deliberately refused to tell anyone her name. Though, with the number of fake names going around Nocturne, that was pretty standard.

It was not a teary goodbye or an emotional one, but Morbid made him promise to be back and said his room would be waiting for him and his sister next holidays. Her and Hermione use the time-turner at dawn to go back half a day, so they could get a good nights sleep and easily switch back to diurnal time without pulling another all-nighter.

The sun was rising and they left the inn and slipped silently out of the alley. They'd said their goodbyes before they slept and Harry was not a fan of goodbyes, but he felt sad leaving all the same.

They catch the Knight bus to Godric Hollow. They train didn't leave until 9 o'clock, a bit earlier for the term holidays. They had a few hours until then, and Harry wanted to see where his mum had lived.

The bus let them out in a little village square. Christmas decorations were still up, strung all around with coloured lights. The normality of it was jarring after how gothic Nocturne was.

There was what looked like a war memorial in the middle of the square. A windblown Christmas tree partly obscured it. There were several shops; a post office, a pub, and a little church whose stained-glass windows sparkled in the early morning light. It was so different from the feel of Nocturne, especially with the cross's on the churches windows that it felt almost unsettling.

Hermione eyed the church. "They... they'll be in there, won't they? Your mum and Mr Potter? I can see the graveyard behind it."

Harry felt a swooping feeling in his gut, more like fear or dread than excitement. Now that he was here, he wondered whether he wanted to see any of it at all. Hermione seemed to know how he was feeling because she reached for his hand and took the lead pulling him forward. Halfway across the square, however, she stopped dead.

"Harry, look!"

She was pointing at the war memorial. As they got closer, it had transformed. Instead of an obelisk covered in names, there was a statue of three people: a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sitting in her arms.

Harry drew closer. It was odd to see himself in stone, a happy baby without a scar on his head, gazing up into his mum's face. His mum was looking so happy in the arms of Potter.

Something like horror, revulsion and anger rose in his gut. How dare they make a statue of such a 'happy' lie to commemorate murder. That's what it was. A lie. A 'nice,' 'pretty' lie that stabbed you in the back!

He hated the statue. He hated and loathed it and wanted to blast off Potter's smug face. The bastard, holding his mother and him in such an intimate embrace as if he cared so much! As if they were the perfect happy family! How dare they!

And they looked so blissfully happy together! Like they never were! He wanted to blast it to pieces. To carve out Potter's stone eyes. But that would not fix it. It would not make it better. And really, it would only attract attention, scrutiny. The world viewed Potter as a hero.

They'd never understand.

But one day. One day he'd make them forget anything good about James Potter. They'd know his mother's true story. He was Hadrian Evans Peverell, son of Lily Marie Evans. He was not a Potter. The potter line died with James Potter, the disgrace and Harry would awaken and bear his ancestor's true name with pride.

"C'mon," said Harry, feeling ill. As they crossed the road, he glanced over his shoulder; the statue had turned back into the war memorial.

There was a kissing gate at the entrance to the graveyard. On either side of the slippery path to the church doors, the snow lay deep and untouched. They moved off through the snow, carving deep trenches behind them as they walked around the building, keeping to the shadows beneath the brilliant windows.

Behind the church, row upon row of snowy tombstones protruded from a blanket of pale blue that was flecked with dazzling red, gold, and green wherever the reflections from the stained glass hit the snow. Keeping his hand closed tightly on the wand in his jacket pocket, Harry moved toward the nearest grave.

Abbot

He wondered how many family members of people he knew were here.

They waded deeper and deeper into the graveyard, gouging dark tracks into the snow behind them, stopping to peer at the words on old headstones.

"Harry, here!"

Hermione was two rows of tombstones away; he had to wade back to her, his heart positively banging in his chest.

"Is it- ?"

"No, but look!"

She pointed to the dark stone. Harry stooped down and saw, upon the frozen, lichen-spotted granite, the words Kendra Dumbledore and, a short way below her dates of birth and death, and her daughter Ariana. There was also a quotation: "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."

So Dumbledore's family had indeed lived here, and part of it had died here. Harry could not help thinking that he and Dumbledore both had deep roots in this graveyard, yet he had never thought to share it with him?

Really? He thought cynically.

It would have been a great way to get Harry to feel indebted to him. What a bond that would have been. How much it would have meant to him, visiting his parent's graves. But it seemed that to Dumbledore, the fact that their families lay side by side in the same graveyard had been an unimportant coincidence, irrelevant, perhaps, to the job he wanted Harry to do. And it was not as if Dumbledore had ever been a proper guardian, or even care about Harry.

So why did Harry feel letdown?

"Here!" cried Hermione again a few moments later. "Oh, no, sorry! I thought it said Potter."

She was rubbing at a crumbling, mossy stone, gazing down at it, a little frown on her face.

"Harry, come back a moment."

"What?"

"Look at this!"

The grave was extremely old. Harry could hardly make out the name. Hermione showed him the symbol beneath it.

He peered at the place she indicated. The stone was so worn that it was hard to make out what was engraved there. There was a triangular mark beneath the name that was just as hard to make out.

"That's that odd mark in the Tails of Beatle the Bard..." Harry said.

"Its the symbol of the three Deathly Hallows according to Luna," Hermione said, pointed it at the name on the headstone.

"It says Ignotus, I think..."

"Ignotus Peverell," Harry whispered, "my ancestor."

He felt painfully lonely, standing there looking at a carved rock that was all that was left of one of his long-dead family members.

Hermione took his hand again and said, "come on, Harry. Let's find your mum, all right?"

He nodded and let her lead him between the graves. It was strange walking through the cemetery. It seemed to be unnaturally quiet, even for an early morning. Deeper and deeper amongst the graves he went, and every time he reached a new headstone, he felt a little lurch of apprehension and anticipation.

"Harry, she's here..." Hermione said, pointing to a grave next to her.

He felt as if something heavy were pressing on his chest; a grief that weighed so heavily on his heart and lungs that he could barely breathe.

The headstone was white marble, easy to read, as it seemed to shine in the early morning light. Harry did not need to kneel or even approach very close to it to make out the words engraved upon it.

His parents' names, dates of birth and date of death. On a shared headstone.

She did not even have her own headstone, he thought bitterly, his throat aching. Even in her death, his mother was tied to that man. He scowled, his eyes stinging furiously. The stone showed nothing of her personality at all! And that quote underneath it!

'The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.'

"What a horrid thing to say!" He spat, "even in death, she can't escape and be free of him! Isn't that a Death Eater idea? Why is that even that there? Why is he even here! He has no right to be lying next to her."

Grief and fury were making his head foggy; he couldn't think clearly.

Hermione squeezed his hand tightly, "I don't think it means defeating death in the way the Death Eaters mean it, Harry," she said, her voice gentle. "It means... you know... living beyond death. Living after death."

But they were not living, he thought bitterly, she was gone. The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parents' mouldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing. His mother was gone. He would never really know her, and she was lying next to the person she hated, who had trapped her.

Tears came thick and fast before he could stop them, boiling hot then freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them freeze. His lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow, letting his hair fall around his face, hiding his eyes the place where the last of Lily lay.

Bones now surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that her living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of her sacrifice and wishing, for a moment that he was under the snow with her.

He slashed his wand angrily at the tombstone, splitting it in half, leaving James with the stupid white stone, and the stupid quote. He didn't care. But hers, he changed. But his mother would have her own headstone. He transfigured the white marble and into black obsidian with a flick of his wand. He wrote her name, then 'Free at last, free at least, thank the goddess almighty, I'm free at last.'

Hermione had taken his hand again and was gripping it tightly. The stone still looked plain.

"Based off Martin Luther King jr?" she asked softly.

He nodded.

"But changed to fit her. She'd like that I'll bet Harry. But remember she loved you more than anything. She stayed for you."

She made a good point. He thought for a minute. Truly thought about his mum and not his own anger. He flicked his wand again, thinking hard on what he wanted for her. He opened his eyes, and a statue of Hekate stood guard over her grave a small plaque at the base. He swished his wand again, and words appeared:

Lily Marie Evans

Devoted & Beloved

A fighter until the end.

Hermione squeezed his hand comfortingly. He could not look at her but returned the pressure. He took deep, sharp gulps of the morning air, trying to steady himself, trying to regain control. He should have brought something to give her! How thoughtless of him, he berated himself, casting a glance wildly around. But Hermione raised her wand, moved it in a circle through the air, and a wreath of blood-red roses blossomed before them. Harry caught it and laid it on his mum's grave, casting an ever-fresh charm on them.

He wiped his eyes and stood, letting her pull him into her arms in a tight hug. When she drew away, he wanted to leave suddenly.

"Come on," he said horsily.

He did not think he could stand another moment there. He looped his arm through Hermione's and led them back to the kissing gate. She squeezed his arm close to her side, sniffling.

They left the graveyard and wandered through the village. They ended up wandering down a little street leading out of the village in the opposite direction from which they had come. Harry could see the open country again where the cottages ended.

"Where do you want to go now?" Hermione asked quietly, but Harry was not paying attention. He was looking toward the very end of the row of houses. Next moment he had sped up, dragging Hermione along with him; she nearly slipped on the ice on the road.

"Harry-"

"Look..."

"I don't... oh!"

He could see it; the Fidelius Charm must have died with Potter and his Mum. The hedge had grown wild in the years since Hagrid had taken Harry from the rubble that lay under the waist-high grass. Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in dark ivy and snow. It felt unnatural cold, and still. As if the very earth held its breath.

The right side of the top floor and some thatched roof had been blown apart. That must have been where the curse had backfired. He and Hermione stood at the gate, gazing up at the wreck of what must once have been a cottage just like those that flanked it.

"I wonder why nobody's ever rebuilt it?" whispered Hermione.

"It was put under status," Harry replied. "But it does feel weird here. Maybe it's like the injuries from Dark Magic; you can't always repair the damage?"

"They made it a monument remembering that horrid night. How awful," he murmured, gripping her arm a little tighter. He slipped his other hand from beneath his cloak and grasped the snowy and thickly rusted gate.

"You're not going to go inside are you? It looks unsafe; it might- oh, look!" she cried.

His touch on the gate seemed to have done it. A sign had risen out of the ground in front of them, up through the tangles of nettles and weeds, like some bizarre, fast-growing flower, and in golden letters upon the wood it said:

"On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family."

Around those words things had been added by other witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy Who Lived had escaped. Some had merely signed their names in Everlasting Ink; some had carved their initials into the wood, others had left messages. The most recent of these, shining brightly over sixteen years' worth of magical graffiti, all said similar things.

"Good luck, Harry, wherever you are."

"If you read this, Harry, we're all behind you!"

"Long live Harry Potter."

"They shouldn't have written on the sign!" said Hermione, indignant.

"No, they shouldn't have," he said in a low, furious voice, "they made my house an amusement, a symbol of hope. They'd have me a martyr and would have me die for them, fight for them. They claim to be with me all the way, but where are they now? Where were they when I was bleeding and starving as a child?" He spat, sneering at what they'd done to his gate.

"An amusement made of the price I paid, for their freedom, the night I lost everything." He spat bitterly.

He wanted to clear all the words and claim his house back! Because it was his! His mother had lived here and given him a home here. They had no right to it! He didn't want to live there! Not in the place where he'd lost too much, and his mother had been so unhappy, but he didn't want them having it either!

It was private. He didn't want them coming and staring at his grief!

But he also understood, detachedly, what it was to the community.

Hope.

The price of hope, he thought cynically, of evil being defeated. He swallowed hard and clenched his fists.

He pushed open the gate and felt the ministry wards trying to lock him out. But under it all, he felt his mother's magic too. He took out his Boline and cut his hand, smearing the blood on the gate, pushing his magic at the wards. The family wards opened, cutting a door through the Ministry wards. He took Hermione's hand in his own bloody one allowing her to slip through the wards too.

It was deathly quiet inside as if they were in another world. The air was heavy and thick with a strange pressure that seemed to silence the world out side. The air was musty somehow, with old fear and his mother's unhappiness. The emotions seemed to have seeped into the very house itself.

It made Harry's pulse race and his breath become shallow. He felt tired all of a sudden as if the whole world was on his shoulders, and he might go to sleep and never wake up again.

He walked through the house, Hermione at his side like a silent shadow. A warm unobtrusive presence. And he was grateful for it.

The kitchen was at the front of the cottage and the living room behind that. On the other side were the bathroom, laundry and a study that had been turned into a room for Potter's friends, judging by the posters and pictures on the walls. It looked like a teenage boys room.

Harry walked through to the kitchen. It was not as cluttered as the one in her apartment, but he could still tell that it had been lived in and had the sense of organised chaos that her apartment had had.

It was as it was is if they'd stepped out and would be back at any minute. It almost made Harry look over his shoulder as if to check to see if his mum was following him in.

There were dirty dishes in the sink, and clean ones on the drying rack as if waiting to be put away. The makings of tea were sitting on the bench and a half-eaten jar of muggle baby food. The only sign of time having passed was the layer of dust over everything and the stain the tea left in the cup when it had dried up.

There were pictures all over the cool box. It wasn't a fridge like the Muggles had. But a wooden cabinet with cooling charms that worked like a fridge. He peered closer at them. There was a half-finished shopping list on it, there was a picture of him and his mum, and one of him covered in what could have been mashed pumpkin. One of his mum cuddling him close them both grinning brightly like the sun.

He opened the cool box curiously. It still had food in it. Still fresh from the fridges magic. He stared. So weird. So sad. He fingered the recipe books on top of the cool box.

His mum's. It started off in her own childish writing and changing as she grew up. His Grandma Evans' cookbook was there too, yellowed with age and held together with crusting yellowed muggle tape. And another receipt book that was clearly a wizarding cookbook, "Ms Merlin's Basic to Brilliant!"

Carefully he slipped his mum's and grandmothers into his bag to look at later.

There were more pot plants around the kitchen and herbs, and potion ingredients and a cupboard on the wall full of cauldrons, potion things. Dusty dried herbs and things hung from the ceiling beam. There was an empty cauldron on the table, next to a box of Bicarb soda and a pile of knives, stirring rods and other tools. There was a pile of ingredients, phials, and jars next to it. As if she'd been brewing or about to and hadn't bothered to tidy up.

His mum had obviously spent a lot of time in the kitchen he thought. And for planning. She'd used the kitchen table as a study by the looks of it, as she had in her flat. There was still a thick book on the table in a language he didn't understand. Notes and bookmarks covered it, and there was a fat notebook with an odd silver quill.

He picked up the notebook to have a closer look. It had different symbols on the top corner of each page, some of which looked like diary entries, some of which looked like ward notes, or potions notes.

He stared. This must have been the notebook she used to update the books in the trunk while she was away. She'd mentioned it in one of her diaries, worked out how to link them and transfer things. He was struck again, dimly of how brilliant his mother had been as he carefully pocketed the notebook and quill.

He glanced at the door to the living room. Sure enough, the bouncing baby carrier she had written about was hanging off one side of the doorway as if taken down in a hurry. He crept into the living room. He was tiptoeing despite himself.

The living room looked like the Gryffindor common room cozy but garish in red and gold. It had few signs of Lily in it. Instead, it had a stack of files on one table and a stack of quidditch magazines on the arm of the sofa. There was Marauders paraphernalia everywhere

He glanced at the fireplace and saw the first sign of his mum. A well-thumbed muggle fantasy book, laying spine up on the arm of a black armchair that didn't really fit the room. And a stack of books on the floor next to it. It was as if his mum had just set it down for a moment. Next to it was a small sheepskin in front of the fire.

For a moment, Harry got the impression of warmth, safety and love, the smell of roses and a huge crackling fire in front of him.

He knew his mother had disliked the place, but she had read in the armchair in front of the fire, letting him nap on the sheepskin.

He turned and then caught sight of something on the couch.

A wand.

He picked it up, and somehow knew it was Potter's.

Why hadn't he had it on him? They had been at war! He gave it an experimental flick. It sparked sluggishly, and when he cast Lumos, it was like trying to blow air through a thin straw. It felt uncomfortable as if the wand didn't want him using it, didn't like him. He put it back down on the couch, and cast an eye around, and caught sight a door leading to a guest bedroom and a set of stairs.

The guest room looked like it had once been a study, but had been taken over by the Marauders, photos and posters stuck up on the wall, and Gryffindor banners hanging around the bed. He left the room, not really interested in his father's friends anymore, and slowly made his way up the stairs.

There was a master bedroom on one side, with an ensuite. It was clearly Potter's space. He'd decorated it in red and gold. Harry knew from her diary she'd hated it and anything red (clashed with her hair) and she'd never slept in it, even if he had decorated it with her in mind. And didn't that show how much Potter didn't really know his mum?

He was reluctant but poked around hoping to find something, anything to explain away his father's behaviour. Maybe a diary, like his mother had kept that could explain it all away. He didn't find one, but he did find a gold necklace with the Potter ring on it. He sighed and took a moment to scribble a note and slip the ring into the Gringotts box to send safely to Rodgrip.

The other bedroom had been converted to a nursery. Half of it closes to the door was clearly his mother's bedroom. It had a small bed, and desk, that seemed to double as a changing table, if the stack of clothes and the onesies were any indication. He stepped into the room, touching a foot of a purple and green onesie. It was soft, despite its dustiness.

It looked devoid of any of Lily's personality. It was as if it were not properly lived in. Not like her trunk, or apartment, or even the kitchen with its notes and potions things. It was as if it was being emptied. The bed had stacks of clothes, books, and baby things in ordered stacks and a half-packed bag were sitting on the pillow.

He had known she'd been prepared to run at any moment. Risk losing her magic and run just to keep him safe. He could feel his magic whirling as something in his gut twisted painfully.

The other half of the room was clearly a nursery. The walls seemed to have once been yellow, and he could just make out charmed animals bounding feebly about under all the black scorch marks. The little animals seemed to be half burnt and melted. It was a grizzly sight.

The cot was rubble on the floor, and the carpet was one giant scorch mark. But the wards the ministry used to lock the house down must be keeping the rain and snow out too. There were no weather marks inside, despite the roof and part of the wall having been blown off.

He could feel his own magic writhing in distress as he looked around, his head ached, and he could feel the remnants of dark magic sitting heavily in the air. He felt footsteps on the stairs running, a woman's soft cry's. He turned, but there was no-one on the stairs...

But he could hear them. Or were they out on the street? He glanced out the window, that looked out into the little lane. It was dark and windy outside, raining, making puddles on the street, the snow had gone...

The night was wet and windy, two children dressed as pumpkins waddling across the square. The shop windows covered in paper spiders, all the tawdry Muggle trappings of a world in which they did not believe... And he was gliding along, that sense of purpose and power and rightness in him that he always knew on these occasions... Not anger... that was for weaker souls than he... but triumph, yes... He had waited for this, he had hoped for it... He was going to saver this...

"Nice costume, mister!"

He saw the small boy's smile falter as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood of the cloak. He saw the fear cloud the boy's painted face.

Good. He smiled coldly.

The child turned and ran away... Beneath the robe, he fingered the handle of his wand... One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother... but unnecessary, quite unnecessary...

Pity.

And along a new and darker street, he moved, and now his destination was in sight at last. The Fidelius Charm was broken, though they did not know it yet... And he made less noise than the dead leaves slithering along the pavement as he drew level with the dark hedge and stared over it...

They had not drawn the curtains; he saw them quite clearly in their little kitchen, the tall black-haired man in his glasses, arguing with a woman with long dark red-hair holding a small black-haired boy in blue pyjamas. The child was resting quietly against his mother's chest, sucking on a strand of red hair that he held in his tiny little fist. The Mother cradled the child protectively as she appeared to be arguing back at the man viciously, gesticulating wildly with one free hand, saying words he could not hear, her long dark-red hair falling over her face.

The father seemed to try and comfort the mother, but she turned away sharply, crossing to the sink.

So they did not get along.

Interesting, he thought as the father seemed to let out a huff and crossed into the living room. He could just see it through the window. The man threw his wand down on the sofa and crossed over to the stack of files on the tables, yawning...

The fool.

The gate creaked a little as he pushed it open, but James Potter did not hear from the living room, and Lily Evens Potter was now engrossed in her book at the table.

His white hand pulled out the wand beneath his cloak and pointed it at the door, which burst open. He was over the threshold as James came sprinting into the hall, Lily up the stairs. It was easy, too easy. He had not even picked up his wand...

"Shit! It's him! Run Lily! I'll hold him off!"

Hold him off? Without a wand in his hand! He laughed before...

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green light filled the cramped hallway, it lit the pram pushed against the wall, it made the banisters gleam like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut...

He could hear her screaming from the upper floor as she discovered the extra wards he had put over the house earlier, trapping her in the room. Stupid girl, assuming he'd let her apparate or portkey out.

But as long as she was sensible, she, at least, had nothing to fear... He climbed the steps, listening with faint amusement to her attempts to barricade herself in... How stupid they were, and how trusting, thinking that their safety lay in friends, that weapons could be discarded even for moments...

He forced the door open with one lazy wave of his wand and had her disarmed in a moment... and there she stood, the child in her arms in front of a crib, her face tear-stained and horrified. At the sight of him, she dropped her son into the crib behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from sight she hoped to be chosen instead...

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside now."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-"

He did not notice the blood on her hands or her son's face. He just sneered at her stupidity. As if begging would save her son.

"This is your last warning-"

"Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy... Not Harry!

Not Harry! Please- I'll do anything-"

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"

He could have forced her away from the crib, but it seemed more prudent to finish them all...

The green light flashed, filling the room. She dropped like her husband. She made a pretty corps, he thought, satisfaction rising in him.

He turned to the child who had still not uttered a sound. It stood clutching the bars of its crib. It looked up into the intruder's face with wide soulful eyes.

He pressed his wand very carefully into its forehead, not seeing the blood on it under the dark fringe. What did he care if the child had food or something in its hair? He just wanted to see it happen, the destruction of this one, inexplicable danger.

The child began to cry. He did not like it crying. He had never been able to stomach the small ones whining in the orphanage-

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry blinked.

He was in the middle of the room on his hands and knees, panting as if he'd run a marrathon. Hermione crouching next to him.

"Harry," Hermione whispered. "Do you feel all- all right?"

"Yes," he lied, crawling over the crib. His mother's wand had flown under it when Riddle disarmed her. He picked it up mechanically and got to his feet, pocketing it.

He didn't want to be here anymore.

"Dobby," he croaked quietly and had to stop himself jumping at how loud the crack of Dobby's apparition was.

Dobby seemed to sense Harry's disquiet though and said nothing, just looked around the room, his ears sagging unhappily.

"Dobby can you and Winky pack the house up for me?" He asked quietly, pleading, "can you box it up and take the things to Gringotts? I don't want to go through it right now, but I want it safe."

The elf nodded, patted Harry's knee in a way Harry thought was meant to be comforting before popping away. Harry stood there looking at a black mark on the rug for a moment, feeling empty and hollow, before turning and walking away.

Harry had pressed blood onto the gate as they left and had willed the house to shut everyone out. He didn't know much about wards yet, but he had felt them reach out to his magic as he'd entered the first time. He hoped it would be enough. It seemed to be, as the wards seemed to shiver and drawn in on themselves as he left.

They walked back to the other side of town, and hailed the bus, drawing their hoods over their heads.

They didn't talk as they waited for their stop, but Hermione leaned her head against Harry's shoulder, wrapping an arm around him and let him keep his silence. She was a warm, steady presence.

And he was grateful for it.

They were the first ones at the platform when they arrived from Godrick's Hollow. It was a little early still so as Hermione slipped on to the train to get them a carriage Harry took a moment to put himself back together. He felt strung out and drained, yet at the same time as if he was about to walk into battle.

He'd found so much freedom over the break. He felt like he had gotten himself back for the first time in years. Now he felt like he had to pack it all back up. To pack up all that he was again, to hide himself again. Like he had to slip on the mask of the boy who lived again, he thought in disgust.

No. He was not that boy anymore. He never had been. He was Hadrian Evans-Peverell, Hadrian 'Harry' Lilyson. The Golden Boy never existed. He would not bow to any of them. He was free now. He would not play to their whims or let them use him any more.

He took a deep fortifying breath, and let it strengthen his resolve, and stepped onto the train.

He felt strong again, as he had in the alley, standing up to those who would sooner see him fall before they had taken him in as one of their own. He stalked down the train to the compartment he knew Hermione would choose. He let his hair fade back to black, and his eyes shift back to green. But he left his scar hidden and left his hair long, falling carelessly down his back. He liked how effortless it was to look decent for a change, with the long length.

He'd say it was a potion. He took the fang earring off and instead put in a pair of obsidian studs that he'd carved tiny protection runes and wards on.

Why should he keep up his pretence of playing along? He would not give away all his secrets, but he would not pretend to be something he wasn't now. He may not be reckless, but he had no need to hide now. Not completely anyway. He would play by the rules (some of them) and play their game (some of it), but he would not bend to their will.

Notes:

Ostera break - easter break. Harry now followed the pagan wheel of the year, the traditional old wizarding festivals. He never put much stock in the muggle religious festivals before anyway so he doesnt use the names any more.

The trace only detects under age magic, not who it was done by. So they won't be detected. And as its a wizarding (or mostly wizarding town) they won't investigate.

A boline is a ritual knife used for cutting physical things. An Athame is a ritual knife too but unlike the Boline it never cuts physically or draw blood.

Yes, I did bastardise a Martin Luther King jr quote and make it pagan.


	58. Chapter 58 The Teachers Holiday

Severus stalked down from the headmaster's office and past the gargoyle, fuming. Could not, for once, the last day of term end smoothly? There always had to be something! His robes billowed as he flew down the charm's corridor and came to a sharp holt in front of his colleague's door. It swung open before he could bang on it. He frowned and entered warily.

"I thought you might pop in before term officially ended." Filius said, skipping greetings, "Harry has been unhoused. His robe crest changed today. It is far worse than we feared. This must have happened a few weeks ago."

"Yes," Severus snapped. "And the little ankle-biters have all done the impossible and kept it from the Hogwarts rumour mill, so we didn't even hear about it! That's what the Gryffindors were all so quiet about! We should have noticed! Normally rumours travel around the castle before the end of the day!"

"We'll he has hardly been seen out of class, he's been skipping meals and not seen between classes in the corridors," Filius said sounding sad and old.

"They're probably hexing him!" Severus snapped.

"Yes," Filius sighed, sounding tired, "and you know without catching them in the act, our hands are all but tied," Filius reminded him, "you know this, and they're smart enough not to be caught."

"And he's smart enough not to be caught by them, or us," Severus said softly.

He turned a slightly accusing eye on his friend, "you said we should wait to give the boy time and space to cool down. But we have waited too long, failed him too long. Now he's permanently un-housed, and his friends are probably on their way to joining him, if not also un-housed! And that dunderheaded head of his house has not even noticed!

She has done nothing! I don't even know if she'd noticed the five of them are hardly ever seen out of class! If she'd failed this, what else has she neglected in her duty!" Severus spat with a vitriol usually only reserved for particularly stupid potion mistakes.

Filius swore (not at all briefly) in his own tongue and said, "I did not realise it had gotten that bad. I have tried to step in before; you know this." He sighed, "I didn't know she was that ignorant. I wonder... I know Mr Potter is leaving for the break, but I assumed she had agreed. Not that she needs to, he is within his rights to leave for break, but maybe..."

Severus snorted, "she doesn't agree, she just finished drawing him up to Dumbledore's office for that reason. It was pretty funny, actually." Severus said before proceeding to tell his colleague all about the meeting, and the brief dressing down Harry had given Dumbledore.

Filius snickered then sighed and offered his colleague a seat and a cup of tea with their customary shot of goblin whisky.

"and he's not likely to let us help him now either," Severus added, "not when I made such a hash of it last time we spoke."

He sipped his drink then nearly spat it out again at the sudden realisation, "that's why he's in the dungeons!"

"What?" Filius said, cleaning the mess up with a flick of his wand.

"Someones been taking refuge in the dungeon for a few weeks now. I hadn't managed to catch them, though. I didn't know who it was, so I wasn't able to offer help. But the Barron knew! He knew but didn't tell me who it was!" Severus fumed, berating himself.

Why didn't he tell him? It was always for a reason, withholding information on the goings-on in their domain. But the Barron had said it was a snake... What did the Barron know, and why had he held back on the details this time? And what was the Barrons angle?

"Maybe there is something else at play here?" Filius said after a while.

"There must be..." Severus said thoughtfully, "He was un-housed and felt he couldn't go to anyone, so he took refuge in the dungeon of all places, he's been avoiding his housemates in the hall, his friends have too. It's worse than we thought and he, all of them have kept it from us," Severus muttered.

Filius sighed heavily in agreement, "Back with the un-housing through; we cannot undo it..." Filius speculated, "but maybe we can assist him in some other way. I wonder what un-housed him? There hasn't been a true un-housing in almost a century at least. Surly he couldn't have done anything that bad."

"Few people now even no about it. Its most likely he didn't do anything to really warrant that harsh a punishment," severus replied darkly, remembering his own threat of being un-housed.

"So you think it likely it was unjust?"

"Yes. It's happened before. If we can get a third head of house we can organise a re-sorting for him," Severus said.

"You sure know your stuff on that. Even I don't remember much about the un-housing."

Severus frowns bitterly, "I was nearly unhoused and was unable to gather enough support for a re-sort," he said tersely, making Filius pale.

"Severus!" Filius said horrified, but Severus cut him off, "Slughorn was incompetent, and Minerva enamoured with her lions, there was no point even asking." He dismissed.

"I wish I had been able to help you then," Filius said with a sigh.

"You didn't know, and I didn't trust anyone after Slughorn and Dumbledore repeatedly turned me away, even if you had been a head of house then. Those that are bitten rarely ask anyone else for help. We assume they are all alike and will all bite us." He said with a dismissive sigh, "Anyway I suspect it had something to do with the task," Severus went on, "they were particularly volatile after his victory."

"It could be a combination, they've turned on him a number of times. And Lord knows, I have wanted to throttle them a few times over the years for their treatment of him, and other students."

"You know Minerva's stance of children having 'harmless fun,' Hekate knows the number of times we have had 'insufficient' evidence to punish students. Unless you catch them in the act..." Severus sneered, "it's probably a cumulation. What's more, Albus is doing nothing at present. He knows something but has said nothing. He's scheming again..."

"Well fuck," Filius said succinctly.

"Indeed."

Filius Flitwick noticed with a frown, that it took until the evening of the Yule Ball for anyone else to notice that Mr Potter had left the castle. He glanced at Severus, who was sitting next to him at one of the staff tables in the Great Hall at the Ball. Yes, Severus had noticed that too and was none too pleased.

Dumbledore was frowning slightly, sitting at the main table with the heads, the judges and Minerva. He was fuming but putting on a good face.

No-one else seemed to notice or care. It certainly didn't make any waves; the house-elves hadn't even prepared a place setting for Mr Potter. So they had known...

Now wasn't that interesting, though it didn't surprise him that the smart little devils were aware of everything going on.

Filius looked at Ms Granger. She was dancing with Mr Krum and seemed to be enjoying herself. She did look nice, he thought proudly. She did not seem at all worried about her friend he noted. So she must have been aware of his plans as well as the house elves.

"Even while on holidays the brat's causing trouble," Severus said with no real heat. Filius just laughed.

Filius didn't see his friend for a few days after the ball. It wasn't until the Friday before the students came back that Severus finally joined him for their customary late-night cup of whisky spiked tea.

"I saw your cousin earlier this week," Severus said in the way of greeting.

"Oh yes! How is he?" Filius said excitedly, recognising what Severus was not saying. Severus had been to gringotts.

"He is well, sends his regards," Severus said, pouring the tea, and spiking it heavily with the goblin whisky.

"Ah," said Filius, when Severus again deflected from the real subject, he said "that bad, huh?"

"Could be worse," Severus intoned sipping the drink, then instead, "he said you need to come for dinner more often."

"He needs to cook better then," Filius retorted with a snort.

Severus smirked, "I told him you'd say that. He wasn't much pleased."

"He's a young 97-year-old goblin in his prime!" Filius said, "You'd think he'd be able to properly cook Snake Fingers at the very least! Even goblin children can cook that one! It's as easy as your boiled hens eggs!" Filius fumed fondly.

Severus snorted, then said "did you know my middle name is actually Prince? Not Tobias? I didn't know. My mother was cast out and cut off, but not actually completely disowned. I have been named heir to my grandfather's estate. I thought they wanted nothing to do with me."

"Well, now you'll have to play in the politics you hate so much." Filius teased with a delighted grin.

Severus glowered at his friend and took a long draft of the spiked tea. Thank Hekate for the goblins and the drinkable poisons that were their alcohols.

"I had several spells removed from me. It was not... pleasant." He drawled after a pause.

"Purging?" Filius enquired knowingly.

"Indeed."

Filius winced in sympathy, "the standard Gringotts purging ritual?"

He nodded with a shuddered.

"Not much fun that," Filius winced in sympathy, "at least you don't need to do it annually at your physical."

Severus looked horrified, and Filius said, "they take their health seriously my brethren. All goblins of or affiliated with clan Gringott must have a yearly physical. Humans too. Can't have anyone less than healthy or under unexpected spells or potions. It's bad for business."

"It was vile," Severus said, "even the standard purging potions aren't that bad, at least with them you just go to the loo a lot."

Filius snickered, "well?" He asked, "what did they find?"

Severus sighed, "compelling potions keyed specifically to my magic and blood, administered via an effigy. Which is why I didn't pick up on it. Bastard.

And a complex spell regarding Mr Potter. It had started to break down, but was one of the reasons I saw him as his father incarnate so intensely. He looks like his father. It heightened my focus on that, and not his mother. It made me blind to certain things, heightening my own bitterness.

Other than that and the spells you removed it was just the potions. Again, making me loyal to certain people. As if they didn't have me by the balls already!" He swore violently.

He took a sip of tea then continued, "it was then a mild compulsion to make me more likely to listen to him, to lower my inhibitions and remove my restraint on my hate for Potter, Gryffindor and that sort of thing. It tightened my own dislike and lowing my strict standards adherent to my own morals. It made me more likely to abuse Potter and others as I did."

Severus sighed, draining his cup of tea, but did not poor another, "I swore to never be abusive like my father, or like James Potter, but that's what those potions did. And I it stopped me noticing How did I not notice?" He fumed rhetorically.

"because it was subtle, my friend. It lowered your ability to reason and control your decisions. It lowered your inhibitions and swayed your morals.

Everyone can think of killing the little blighters sometimes when their all being impossible, everyone does. But we never actually mean it. We're just irritated, we think it in jest. That's what the spells changed; it twisted that, stoped your ability to judge write from wrong, so that when you may think of it or have an urge to do something, you could no longer see it as wrong or unwise. It's not your fault."

"It is."

"But not completely."

"Not completely" he echoed, "and not again."

"Never again," Filius said, "I'll take you with me next time I get my yearly physical, I'm surprised that as a contractor they don't make you get one too."

"They are now," Severus said, "it was a condition of my parole, for punishment for my crimes during the last war. I'm not technically an employee. My parole says I am unable to be employed, but must serve the rest of my life in community service to the wizarding world as punishment for being a Death Eater."

He huffed at Filius's horrified expression and poured more tea.

"But you were a spy..." Filius said, "from the very start."

Severus snorted, and added a good slosh of whisky to his cup.

"So? That is irrelevant apparently. As I cannot be paid, they can not contract me properly, but they have now gotten a hold of the original contract signed by the parol office detailing my contract work for Gringotts. It was signed by my assumed name, not my true name, so its not as binding. Luckily for us, it was not a goblin contract and they left loop holes. The goblins can use it to sign me up as a proper contractor now," He said proudly, "but I can now earn a living, as long as it's not through reputable ministry wizarding institution. Which is how the goblins were able to pay and contract me before. It had to be below ministry notice."

"You mean you do all this work for Dumbledore and never once got paid?" Filius said appalled.

"Of course not," Severus sneered, "I'm a filthy death eater that should have been given the kiss. It was only by Dumbledore's mercy and grace that I was not locked up forever." He sneered mockingly, "I should be grateful for all the freedom I have, never mind having the gall to ask to be payed too."

"but-"

"I was contracted to Hogwarts to work as community serves for no pay, in exchange for freedom from Azkaban. I never got a trial. Dumbledore did a warlock thing." Severus sneered.

"Said he knew I was a spy and would 'do what he could to gain my freedom, and spare my a trial and Azkaban so that I could continue my duties if the dark lord ever returned.' This was the best he could do." Severus finished with a disgusted look.

"But surely," Filius said appalled.

"Surely he could do more?" Severus asked, "of course, but this suits him better. A word from him and I'm back in Azkaban. This way, he has his 'trained pet death eater' on a tightly controlled leash, to act on command." He sneered again taking another fortifying mouthful of alcoholic tea.

Filius looked if possible further appalled and glanced up at the sky as if the world had betrayed him a little, "he has you by the balls." He said quietly.

Severus snorted humorlessly, "but wait, there's more, it get's better."

"Oh, no."

"Oh yes." With a wooden grin, "Lucius decided he was top dog after the Dark Lord fell. He will kill me or put me in Azkaban if I don't play to his tune and continue to be the obedient servant to the Dark Lords ideals. He has the ear of the Minister, and I owe him a debt," Severus added before muttering, "I was young and stupid, and didn't know better."

"Gods I hated being a spy." He spat, allowing himself the rare indulgence of a moment of weakness, "Gods I loathe it, but I hated Azkaban more. It was one or the other, and at least in this prison I can brew and do some good."

He took another gulp of spiked tea that was now more Goblin Whisky than tea.

"Did I ever tell you about how I became a spy?" He asked, "Or the price I have paid for it?"

Filius topped up his own tea and shook his head wordlessly. His friend had never talked about his passed before. Never said word about how he'd ended up in his awful situation.

"Lucius seduced me, got me an apprenticeship when no-one would take me and offered to help pay for my mastery as a favour. I now know that he is the reason no potions master would take me on as an apprentice. I was a protégée and no-one would take me for fear of Lucius and his lord.

I was tricked and trapped at the initiation and half obsessed, half in love with Lucius and terrified or loosing what little I had. I was a fool. It was all a lie, of course. So I became a spy. I had been feeding the Order information through Lily already, being initiated only meant I had more information I could give her. She was careful with how much she shared. She didn't trust the old man.

I wanted out. I went to Dumbledore about the prophecy, after Lucius made him tell the Dark Lord. Dumbledore used me as his spy. Then after the dark lord's fall I spent a month in Azkaban while Dumbledore 'tried' to get me out. By that time I was so desperate I agreed to all Dumbledore's demands. My only saving grace was that I swore loyalty to Harry Potter not to Dumbledore, to protect Lily's son."

Filius looked horrified, "what does he make you do?"

"Which one?" Severus asked, adding more Goblin whisky to his tea cup.

"Both!" Filius squeaked in horror.

"Play evil death eater. Dumbledore so I can go right back to spying when the dark lord returns and Lucius to ensure my loyalty. I think he just likes the power of being able to control and humiliate me. He always was a sadistic bastard. Lucius likes rubbing my mistakes in my face, it makes him feel powerful, and Dumbledore likes to remind me of them to get me to do his bidding.

I am to excuse Slytherins sabotaging potions, support Malfoy junior in ruling Slytherin and coxing death eater children to follow their parent's footsteps.

Dumbledore doesn't seem to care about them, so it is hard to save them. I am also to make Harry and the Gryffindors life difficult. Draco reports back to Lucius so I am lucky that they both want the same thing of me.

Dumbledore says I'm to ensure Harry doesn't get a big head with his fame, and not to give him special treatment as he is so spoiled. Though I know, now, that is a lie. It was all a lie."

"they're as bad as each other," Filius said looking horrified, "I had no idea it was so bad my friend! No idea! I am so sorry to have let you down so badly, both as your teacher, mentor and friend!"

"It was nothing; do not worry about it." Severus dismissed.

"It's not nothing! You had no-one but Lily and that should not have been. You had no help when you needed it, and we should have seen and noticed. I shall have to be better. It is Hogwarts policy for heads of houses to give their house space until they seek us out. But if it were otherwise none of this would have happened."

"I meet with my Slytherins regularly in case they need me," Severus said.

"Really?" How do you manage it?"

"I do my marking, in the common room, while they study, and they can come up to me if they need help. I have my office hours on the notice board. I ignore the hands-off policy. They need guidance. It helps. Besides I have Arora help me on the sly. She's basically an assistant head of house. She's a slytherin and has the lightest teaching load so when she offered to help me, I took her up on it.

Between the two of us, and the barron, there is nothing in that dungeon I do not know and nothing my snakes can hide. I am there if they need it and they know that. And if they cannot get to me they can go to Arora, and they know it. They have a support stystem and it will not fail them as it did me."

"Things will change," said Filius sternly, "I will not repeat past mistakes."

"In that case, Lovegood is getting bullied by her peers in your house."

Filius swore, putting his head in his hands.

"We've been neatly orchestrated to be blind and useless heads." He moaned. How did he not notice? He'd assumed she was just a bit odd and had decided not to tell her off for having mismatched uniforms, odd earrings and bare feet. He should have checked! He'd failed his eagles!

And of course, Severus had noticed! Severus, who was bullied and abused as a child, always noticed! But being the head of Slytherin, could do nothing without the support of the other head? And why bring it up now? When bringing it up when he himself was in school had never done anything? Filius may not have been head of house when Severus was in school, but he had been the charms master. He had failed his children so very badly.

Never again.

"Never again," Filius swore, a fierce goblin grin on his face, "I will not fail any of you again."

Severus nodded in agreement, a sharp look on his own face, "never again shall we let them down."

END NOTES:

Snake fingers is a goblin dish, its really easy to make. It doesnt actually have snake in it.

Goblins have long lives, the 90's are considered to be young and in their prime

The barron knows about the heir, but also knows he's a parselmouth and too be sorted into slytherin. But mostly he kept quiet because harry wasn't ready and asked him.

He never got a trial he was put into Azkaban for a few weeks while Dumbledore talked to some people. So he didn't get a trail, Dumbledore just spoke for them and organised that. So he does actuall deserve one, so he can prove it. But that is how Dumbledore holds him on a leash.


	59. Chapter 59 The Bigger Picture

This is two fold. Part revision, as a lot happened over the holidays, and part new content. But they're finally back at school. Enjoy.

0o0o0o0

Harry and Hermione locked and warded their compartment and cast several privacy wards before getting comfortable.

Once the train had started moving and they had lost sight of kings cross, Hermione said, "what are we going to do when we get back?"

Harry sighed and took out some of his Christmas sweets, opening the large block of Honeydukes chocolate and snapping off a large piece before tossing the rest on the seat between them.

"Well, we need to talk to the twins and Neville about how we play the un-housing and what we're going to do. As to McGonagall and Dumbledore, I guess it depends on how I want to play it," he said with a heavy sigh.

"You've come along way though," Hermione said reassuringly, "you're free now of his magic, and have circumvented his efforts to starve you and keep you weak."

Harry took a big bite of his chocolate and chewed on it morosely, "true, but it feels like everything I do to be free and have control over my life is offset by something else. I keep having to play by his rules."

"Yeah, but all those bindings are off, and you don't need to play stupid anymore." Hermione said

"Yeah, that's progress I guess. It just feels like I'm not getting anywhere."

"Almost straight O's in all your classes isn't nothing, Harry. And you're staying on top of a bunch of extra subjects and tutoring. Bill said just the other day; you're caught up to where you should be for your age in all things Pureblood that you missed out on, surpassed it." Hermione said, "and that you'll be ready to take those OWLs this summer."

"True," Harry admitted, "at least I can now make choices about things even if it is to make the smart choice and bide my time. But having said that, taking the intelligent option got me un-housed," Harry said around another mouthful of chocolate.

"True, and we'll work on it, but you managed to find a home for yourself in Nocturne, and found your mum's things, and have control over your accounts now. You now have to elves on your side, in the background getting underestimated by Dumbledore. That's a real ace in your pocket." Hermione said, taking some chocolate.

"Yeah, but how am I going to keep the binds off?" Harry said, "sure I can get Dobby and Winky to cook my food, and I can test everything. But he'll work it out. He'll do something. I just know it. I left school when he deliberately ordered me not to, and I openly defied his trigger words, Harry and My Boy. He'll work it out."

"Yes, he probably will. But you didn't do anything wrong. And he has no right to walk all over you. You'll just have to be careful. Don't let anyone give you any potions unless you're sure what it is and where it came from.

He may use Madame Pomfrey after the task so we can plan ahead for her and make sure you're not alone with her. Maybe we can do some extra study and familiarise ourselves with the common potions so we can tell if they've been tampered with."

"Yeah. I'll have to stock up a first aid kit so we have most of what we might need after the task on hand. If I have my own, I won't need to take her potions."

"Good idea," she said, "if all goes well it will just be pepper-up potion after swimming in the lake in February."

Harry nodded, "stupid idea really, what were they thinking."

"Well," she said with a huff, "they clearly didn't have the champions best interests at heart."

"I know," he said with a groan, "I was thinking of making some earrings or jewellery that will detect poisons and potions if I can get it working. I could wear something that will warn me of me being dosed. But I'm worried he'll get my blood or hair or something and use it to dose me or spell me remotely."

"We'll need to be careful not to give any out. We'll have to look up how to make sure none of your hair or nails or blood or anything is left behind. So we'll have to find banishing spells for your room, trunk and bathroom. When you brush your hair, use the spell to banish anything. We'll find a spell to banish any loose hair.

If he does somehow get it, we can do the cleansing ritual again at Easter, and get Gringotts to check you out then. We can do it regularly, bill can check you over when he see's you next. A pain, but it will help." She said reassuringly.

"Yeah, that might help, and if we all watch each other's backs, we can check each other out regularly." Harry said shakily

"Exactly." Hermione said, patting him on the knee.

"So I guess the question is when he calls me to his office, and he will, do I continue to pretend to play along and face whatever punishment they come up with, or do I fighting back and resist?

I didn't let anyone push me around in Nocturne, and could live my own life. But it feels different being back here." Harry said frustrated, running a hand through his hair, "I want to take control of my life and keep making smart choices, but I'm not sure how to deal with the old git at the moment, he has so much power. It's such a risk," he admitted.

"If I play along and be all apologetic taking whatever crock of shit punishment he says, he'll still be suspicious, but maybe he won't try to dose me again. Maybe he'll think it's teenage rebellion or something." He said with a snort.

"What's the worse that can happen if you do stand your ground?" Hermione asked, opening a box of every flavour beans.

"Well, he can yell and give me unearned detentions. He can use legilimency; he can try poisoning me again. Even obliviate me." Harry said, feeling fear coil in his gut.

"And is going along with him, not risking his anger and magic worth it? Worth the trouble to avoid his anger?" Hermione asked, using a spell to pick out the raspberry beans.

"Standing my ground and standing up to him is a risk, but I'll have to take it eventually, I'm not willing to be his puppet forever. I have the protection bracelet and low-level occlumency. If you can check me over afterwards, we can see if he's done anything. Maybe I can get Dobby or Winky to shadow me and watch what goes on. Maybe they can help. I'm not sure if I really want to take whatever he gives me. I'm tired of being under his thumb." Harry mused nibbling on his chocolate.

"It will happen eventually," he went on, "better be prepared now. And I really don't want to do whatever he says and keep playing the 'boy-who-lived.'"

"I don't blame you," Hermione said with a sigh.

"Still need to work out how to get emancipated too. I need a ministry person to sign off on it," Harry said glumly, biting off another bit of chocolate.

"If Bagman is desperate to help you, see if he will," Hermione said.

"That's a good point, can it be anyone from the ministry I wonder?"

"Rodgrip will know, write her a letter," Hermione said.

Harry hurriedly pulled out parchment and quill and scribbled his question and a request for a copy of the paperwork he needed someone to sign for him to get emancipated.

"Do you think Tonks would mind if asked her about it?" Harry wondered, "she's been great helping me with the Metamorph stuff; she works in the Department of Magical Law. She's been great, we write to each other semi-regularly. She seems really decent." He said pulling out his gringotts box and putting his letter for Rodgrip into it.

"Well if she's an Auror and works for the law maybe she can sign it or will know who can?"

"I'll have to ask her, in my next letter," Harry said.

She smiled satisfied and said, "So that's taken care of, the un-housing we need to discuss with the others. Charlie and Bill are looking into the soul shards, and the ritual riddle will use, there's not much we can do at the moment other than look after ourselves, the un-housing and work on the tournament."

"Riddle was after me," Harry said, "not mum, it was me she wanted." Harry said telling her about his vision or flashback he'd had at Godric's hollow.

"The prophecy you mentioned, that must be why he went after you. Something in that prophecy your mum mentioned must have sent him after you."

Harry sighed, "she said the department of mysteries had it, and would tell me if I went."

"Next break then?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded, "I can't believe I forgot about it,"

"We had a lot going on," Hermione said "I'll do more research into prophecy and into the department see what i can dig up."

"There's a servant at Hogwarts," Harry said, "we don't know who it is, it may be Karkaroff, but he seems like a coward. It's not Professor Snape as he vowed to protect me, even if he does hate me. Moody is up to something with Crouch, but he's also trying to help me cheat. But then so is Bagman. So if they both want me to do well, are they in on it? Maybe Moody's working for Dumbledore? Bagman could be it, but then he's also in gambling debt. Which means it could be Moody. He's dark detectors are going off, but it could just be in school... so it may not be him..."

"Statistically, it's the Defence teacher." Hermione said, "Quirellmort tried to kill you, Lockhart tried to obliviate you and Lupin tried to eat us when he forgot his Wolfsbain."

"How do you forget something like that." Harry said, "So history says it's moody. But we don't really know who the servant is. Or why they entered me, just that they need me for something." He continued, "I don't think it's to kill me. They could have done that already. If the servant is at Hogwarts, either full time or not, they would have had opportunities; they could have had the dragon finish me off. They want me for something. Probably for the ritual then, and if they need me, why not take me sooner. If the servant is here, why wait around?"

"Timing must be important then," Hermione offered, "they often are in ritual work."

"We'll have to let Bill and Charlie know, to help with their search. If timing is important in the ritual, we'll need to wait till we know what the ritual is, to prepare on how to stop it. But it could happen at the second or third task. Or it could have been meant to happen at the ball. It would have been easy to kidnap me in all the excitement and chaos. Maybe that's why Dumbledore was so keen for me to stay...?

"I don't know, it would be a good opportunity, but does he really want Riddle back?"

"Well, I guess he can't be killed as a wraith, though he's a homunculus now. And Dumbledore does know that. Maybe he thinks he needs to be in a body to be killed? Though Dumbledore knows about the soul shards... which brings up the question, why is he not doing anything about it?"

"Maybe he doesn't know all of it. Maybe he just suspected? You've said before he's mentioned he only suspects things." She said using another sell to pick out the lemon beans.

"Mm," Harry snapping off another piece of chocolate, "either way I hope I can stay alive and get through this thing without being hurt. Without any of you getting hurt either."

"Do you want to win it, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Fuck no!" He said with feeling, "I don't want the attention. I just want it over. Besides, I came in last place in the first task, even if I wanted it, it's highly unlikly."

"Historically, the last task is a race to the cup. Some kind of obstacle course, or something similar. It's usually whoever gets the cup first wins," she said, "you might get it."

"Fuck." he said, "I better bloody not get there first, they'll never leave me alone then. But what's the point of getting points in the other tasks if it is a race to the cup?"

"The points normally give the champions a head start. The person with the most points goes in first ect." She explained.

"Well as much as it would be nice to win and shove it in their faces, I don't want the attention. I don't want to be in it at all. The money would be nice, but I don't want money from someone trying to kill me. I have enough blood money, I just need to wait to be able to access it. I want this over with as little fuss and attention as possible," he said

"Fair enough," she said snagging the last bit of his chocolate, and tossing him the box of beans, "we'll have to practice obstacle courses and loads of defence spells and what not to keep you safe, in the last task. They've used obstacle courses before and treasure hunts. Broom racing through different challenges, mazes and labyrinths, and they once had a quest through a marsh, maybe they'll use the forest in this one. I'm sure the room can come up with something."

Harry sighed, tipping some beans out into his hand and using her detection spell to figure out what flavours he had, "you ate all the toffee ones, you ass," he complained teasingly, as he banished a few nasty ones, and passed her a few she liked that he didn't.

She shrugged and grinned around a chocolate frog.

"We'll need to brush up on navigation skills then as well as first aid," He said handing her another liquorice bean, "and if the next task is water, and the first task was fire and air, the last one will be earth..."

"So plants and animals. The forest then is probably a good bet for where it will be held" Hermione finished for him.

"Goddess knows, it's deadly enough to be attractive to them. Bloody idiots. I'll ask Hagrid and Neville to help me prepare for more dangerous plants and animals then." Harry said heavily.

"But first let's get through the second task." She said

"I'll need to work on casting underwater. I'll need to perfect the useful spells silently if I can't speak clearly underwater. Though," he pondered, "if I can manage to learn Mermish, I wonder if I can cast spells using Mermish?"

"Well, that's a good question," Hermione said, looking interested, "under the water, Mermish sounds like English doesn't it?"

Harry nodded.

"So I guess Mermish is really just changing the way you speak underwater, using the voice box differently so the sound comes out intelegeble under water? So maybe you'll be able to say Latin spells in Mermish underwater? The spell's incantations themselves are important, so I don't know if they'd just shift that easily. It would be very interesting to test out!" She said exhitedly.

"I'll have to learn Mermish first at any rate."

"We'll need to be careful though when we test it, remember what Professor Flitwick said about the Wizard Baruffio."

Harry snorted, "yeah, who knows how wrong it could go; I don't want a water buffalo on my head. So maybe I'll just stick to silent casting."

"or maybe ask Professor Flitwick abut spell translation first," Hermione suggested.

"True," Harry agreed, "And I'll need to work on getting through the water quickly. I can swim, and Gillyweed does help with the flippers, but some kind of propulsion spell would be good. I want to be able to move fast, so I don't have to spend any longer under the freezing lake than I have to."

"Maybe there's some sort of strong Aguamenti charm that could be of used to push you though the water," Hermione said.

They were silent for a while watching the country side go by then Harry asked, "what house do you recon you'll get if we manage to get a resort?"

"Ravenclaw I suspect," she said, "it wanted me there before. Though I suppose you'll be in Slytherin and it will be odd being in a different House to you. I'm not sure I want to be in a seperate house from you to be honest."

"The sorting hat does take choices into account," Harry said.

"Do you think it would put me with you if I asked?" She asked, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

"I think so, I asked not to go in Slytherin, and it put me in Gryffindor instead, but look where that got me," Harry said.

"I suppose a muggleborn in Slytherin would not go down well," she said, "though I like your Slytherins."

"they're not my Slytherins," Harry said but changed the subject. "Where do you think the others will go?"

"I think the twins will be in Ravenclaw. Their really smart and do research well when they want to. Or maybe Neville will go there. He's smarter than you'd think and loves learning anything about plants.

"True. I think he'd be intimidated by Ravenclaw though. He could be good in Hufflepuff though they've been pricks lately. He's loyal and hard-working. And he's very kind." Harry mused.

"True. Patient as well. Neville is not really that Slytherin though to be honest. He has ambitions with his Herbology, but he's not that cunning." Hermione added.

"The twins are though. They might be Slytherin, and they have big ambitions," Harry said.

"Yes, but the twins are loyal and hard-working too and from a long line of Gryffindors and their family hates Slytherin. They may be okay being un-housed by do you think they'll fight Slytherin, so they don't disappoint their family's.

"I suppose we have traits from all the houses really. It depends on what you prise." Harry said, opening a chocolate frog.

Harry and Hermione had a thestral drawn carriages to themselves when they crossed the wards into Hogwarts. It was just as well they were alone. If Hogwarts magic had been present before, a mere whisper, it was positively deafening now. It was as if the world was suddenly filled with colour and sound. Now Hogwarts magic was overwhelming.

And it felt like she was clamouring excitedly for his attention as their carriage lead them up the drive to the school. He almost staggered out of the carriage, and Hermione had to put a steadying hand to his elbow as he approached the front doors.

When he did cross the door of the entrance hall however, he felt like he was stepping through a thick wall of magic. Strong and deafeningly present. It was all he could focus on. It was heady and made him feel giddy with it. He stumbled blindly, relying on Hermione to steer him as he ran a hand over one of the smooth stones in the wall. Hogwarts seemed to give a shudder, and he could feel her reaching out to him, excited and eager, despite being partially dormant still. It was as if she'd been alone and sleeping for too long, and was desperate for someone to talk to now she was starting to wake.

She felt less wild than the forest and Nocturne. He could feel it though, the vastness of her, her age, years and years of magic, and the powerful lay lines under her. Years of learning and wisdom. He could feel her reaching out to him, welcoming him.

He wanted to reach back, but he could sense a gaggle of younger years behind him, and Hermione tugging on his elbow and...

McGonagall was standing at the bottom of the grand staircase, her arms crossed, her face looking thunderous.

Balls!

Wait, my lady, please, he thought mentally at Hogwarts pleadingly, desperately trying to focus, reaching out lightly with his magic to the castle, later, I promise.

They could talk, in a sense, later. Now he had to make sure nothing blew up in his face. He felt the magic around him warm as if embracing him, before receding again, somewhat reluctantly. Hogwarts still felt loud and bright, but it was no longer all he could feel.

"Harry?" Hermione said as he started moving again. He hadn't even really noticed he'd stopped.

"I'm okay," he said quietly.

She looked about to say something but was cut off.

"Mr Potter!" Professor McGonagall called across the entrance hall.

He pointedly didn't sigh, and just hitched his bag up higher on his shoulder, and stood tall. He'd done nothing wrong.

"Ma'am?" He asked her, coldly politely, stepping out of the way of the door.

"Don't you ma'am me, young man!" She spat her lips a thin line, "do you have any idea the trouble you've caused? Running away!"

"But Professor-" Hermione started.

"Not now Ms Granger, off to your common room before I decide to give you detention too for not telling us of Mr Potters folly!"

Hermione shot her a frosty look, squeezed Harry's hand and tilted her head slightly towards the stairs that eventually let to the Room of Requirement, not the Gryffindor common room.

Harry got the message and imperceivably nodded at Hermione. She let out a huff but nodded to him before she turned and stalking away without a word to her once favourite professor.

"I didn't run away ma'am," Harry said calmly, "I had my relatives permission, and broke no school or tournament rules. You cannot force me to stay at school over the holiday's ma'am. I have done nothing wrong."

She looked ready to blow her top and students that weren't eagerly looking on were inching away from.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for running away, fifty points for not attending Ball, fifty points for not doing your duty as champion and fifty points-"

He cut her off, "I did not run away, nor did I break any rules." He said calmly standing his ground, "I don't know what gave you the impression that I was not doing my 'duty,' ma'am. I am not a champion. I am an unwilling participant, forced to compete because adults failed to do their duty in removing me, as an underaged student.

Nowhere in the contract does it say anything about attending a ball, or anything other than the wand weighing and the tasks. The ball was also not compulsory, and not in the contract. There are no rules saying students must stay over the holidays. I was within my rights to leave. There is no rule that I broke in regards to the holidays or the tournament ma'am." He finished coldly furious but forcing himself to keep his voice civil. He would not give her any more ammunition to use against him.

"Well, I never! And just where were you then?!" She demanded.

"You have clearly stated before that you are not my guardian and that I am not your 'problem,' professor." Harry said pointedly, "I was safe and was able to complete my homework on time, so I do not see what concern it is of yours, ma'am." Harry calmly went on.

She looked ready to explode. Indeed, her magic was crackling in the air around her. "Mr Potter! Fifty points-" She started but then stopped, her head turning sharply, to look at the hour glasses through the doors to the great hall. Her lips thinned again, and her eyebrows rose, if possible, even higher.

"Mr Potter, I don't know what you have done to subvert the house point system, but it seems it will not take points from you. In light of this, you will be serving detention, every night, with Mr filch for the next two weeks and be grateful it isn't more. You will be seeing the headmaster after the feast, and if you are not seated at the Gryffindor table, it will be another week's worth of detention, so make sure you turn up this time!" She snapped, "I am appalled by your behaviour. Your abominable attitude has brought shame to your house and this school. Your parents would be so ashamed of you!"

Something in him snapped then, "I don't care what my father thinks. He was a despicable human being who was little more than an abusive bully, who I am deeply ashamed to even be related to. He was nothing but a bastard and a swine! As for my mother, it is clear she loved me dearly. She loved me enough to willingly lay down her life and die for me. She only wanted me safe and happy, which is more than I can say for you and this school.

Furthermore, it is not what I did to the house system, but what your house did to me." He spat out so furious he could hardly get the words out. "So, if you've sufficiently finished awarding me detentions I did not earn and have quite finished making a scene, I have work to hand in."

With that, he stalked out of the entrance hall, leaving Professor McGonagall, looking as if he had slapped her.

Harry went straight down to the dungeons. He had one more thing to do before he went to see his friends.

He made use of the snake passageways to avoid being seen.

If McGonagall had blown her top, he hated to think what Professor Snape would do if he saw Harry. He'd probably go on about how arrogant and spoiled and selfish Harry was and how he had made a big scene. Just like his father.

Harry shivered and pushed the revolution that thought braught away as he felt the magic around him swell again. Hogwarts, pushing at him, again, and he could feel a buzzing in the magic; excitement? That was not normal for the quiet magic of the castle.

He stopped. He was in the deep dungeons now, and there was no-one around. He reached out hesitantly with a hand. He patted the air in front of him, reaching for the magic.

She felt alive.

It was delightful and exciting. Now he could feel Hogwarts' magic permeating the very air around him; he couldn't imagine how he'd ever questioned if she was truly alive and sentient the way some rumours went. How could one possibly doubt it when she was so very present?

While Nocturne magic had felt alive, wild and full of passion, Hogwarts felt as if she was waking from a deep sleep. As if now she finally had someone to hear her, to feel her, she was waking up. Hogwarts felt old and deep and felt as if she was curling protectively and possessively around him. He could feel her faint consciousness in the very walls and stones under him, sleeping, waiting to be called. He could feel the wild magic under her in the forest and the lay lines feeding her wards. He could feel centuries of excess magic the castle had absorbed over the years from her students.

"Hello Hogwarts," he whispered.

She stirred gently, the magic rising and thickening around him, wild and yet tamed. Like a warm hug or a cat coiling around his ankles.

Pleased.

And lonely, he realised. She'd been alone for so long, and everyone dismissed that she was sentient.

He had to wake her properly, greet her, he realised suddenly, he had to claim his position as heir properly in her presence. He could feel it. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he did, and he could feel her urging at the back of his mind. He reached out a hand, reaching with his magic as the rings on his fingers heated, as he searched for her.

It slammed into him like a freight train forcing him to his knees. Eons of magic, and wards and spells and blood magic. Ancient Blood Magic. He could feel all of it, hundreds and hundreds of students, and spells and triumphs and failures; laughter and tears, loneliness and joy, wars and peace, and under it all, was Hogwarts, the constant. People had come and gone, but through it all Hogwarts had stood tall and strong protecting them all.

Born of the founders, every stone and ward had been carefully, lovingly crafted. The sheer enormity of it hit him, then. They hadn't just built a school, a building; they had built something sentient, they had breathed themselves into her and given her life... of a kind.

And the wards around him... he understood now why they said Hogwarts was one of the safest places on earth. Hundreds and hundreds of layers and years of wards. Old and powerful, and so complex, he couldn't even begin to make sense of half of them, and they were so strong. Powered by years of ambient magic from teenaged witches and wizards, and wild magic from the forest, and the lay lines, and under it all...

The founders. They'd used blood magic to start them, he realised. Every month for years They had sacrificed some of their blood to power her wards and tie them into the local wild magic, the lay lines and the land. Then at the end of their lives, they had willingly offered themselves to her, giving the last of their magic to power her, to give her strength, to keep her strong, their legacy.

No wonder so many people were so reverent when they spoke of the founding four. It was the most brilliant and dedicated bit of magic he'd ever seen.

He pressed his forehead to the cold stones under him and just breathed. This was the founders legacy, his ancestors legacy... and it awed him.

He took his boline out of his bag and clenched the blade in his fist and pulled. Blood spilled out of his fist and dripped onto the stones under him. Hogwarts shivered.

He pressed his bloody hand to her stones and said, "my blood onto you, my magic onto yours, as my ancestors once did. Slytherin and Gryffindor live on and do not forget," he whispered, the words flowing from some forgotten corner of his mind.

Old magic.

He felt the magic around him swell as the blood was absorbed into the stone floor without leaving a trace. The castle seemed to shiver and embrace him. It almost burnt, but oh, how it was a good burn.

Hogwarts had always felt a little like home, but now... now it felt as if he belonged. And the weariness he'd felt since coming back into dumbledore's domain eased. And he knew somehow that the castle was not the headmasters alone to rule. This was his home, and Hogwarts protected her own. No more could the headmaster force her elves to work against her heir, no more could he force her ghosts and portraits to spy on her heir and no more could he order her about with no-one to hold him accountable. Hogwarts was waking up now, and she had her heir, and she would not sleep while her students had need of her.

Harry may not be holding the wards, he may not be able to bend them to his will, or control her, he was not her lord, but he was her heir, and he could ask.

"Please my lady," he said softly, "let our elves ignore orders from the old man that are not in the schools or the students best interest's. Let their loyalty be returned to the school first and foremost as it always was, not the whims of an old man; as too with the ghosts and portraits. Let them protect the students and report bullying and rule-breaking, as they should, to the nearest and fairest authority.

Let the headmaster not use them to be his personal spies, as I am sure he does. Let him only issue orders for the betterment and best interests of the students and the school."

And he felt the castle's magic shiver happily against the back of his mind as if that's all it had been waiting for. The magic in the walls seemed to hum, and he felt a wave of relief and joy. She seemed to embrace him briefly in another hug before settling. She was pleased with him; he somehow knew.

"Thank you, my lady," he murmured, getting up off the ground, healing his hand with a flick of his wand. He had long suspected the ghosts and portraits had acted as spies for Dumbledore, how else did the man seem to know everything. And he'd long suspected the Fat Lady painting of having reported to Dumbledore. Now, however, he was safe. Hogwarts would do her best to help keep him safe. He wasn't alone now.

And that was a relief.

The cupboard was cold when he got back, he noted with a shiver. But as soon as the thought has passed thought his mind, it seemed to warm up.

He grinned, "thank you, my lady," he said to the castle, and he felt the castle wrap her magic around him briefly in a hug. He smiled and cast his mind to his list of things to do...

He had already talked to Dobby and Winky on the train. He'd asked them both to make sure no other elves touched his food or things. Only them, even with Hogwarts helping now, he felt safer if they were in charge of all his food and drink and laundry. Now he was free he could not risk being spelled or potioned back under Dumbeldore's control again. And now Hogwarts was on his side the castle elves would not have as much trouble helping him. They were on his side now, and they were able to be on his side now. It was not for lack of wanting or trying before. Hogwarts warm magic stirred around him briefly in comfort, and he reached out a hand to pat at her magic with his own.

It was nice having something so sentient and magical around him.

He still needed to make sure no-one got ahold of his blood or hair... Bill had shown him a spell to banish blood and hair. Now he'd just need to remember to use it in the bathrooms after he'd finished so if someone did track him down they would be able to find it to use against him.

Really what would be good would be an earring or something he could enchant or ward to ward against anyone trying to steal his blood or hair. But maybe that was being a bit too paranoid? It was easy enough to make sure he didn't bleed anywhere, or to banish any blood he did spill. And he had a spell to clean up any stray hairs in the bathroom and to clean his hairbrush after he used it. It wasn't as if he was going to let Dumbledore close enough to allow the man to steal any blood or hair.

He shook his head and refocused. He needed to ward his cupboard. He'd learnt alone over the break, and had a much better warding plan now. Harry spent a lot of time not only studying wards with Bill but reading his mum's book on warding and on blood magic. So he had an advanced basic knowledge. Blood wards were finicky and hard to do well but had the potential to be quite powerful. Sometimes they were stupidly simple and devilishly complex at others.

He was hoping that by starting them up with his blood, he'd be able to attach them to Hogwarts wards too, to make them last longer. Hopefully, his connection to the castle and the founders in his blood would help. He'd see.

First, he pulled his hair back out of his eyes in a somewhat haphazard ponytail. (He still hadn't quite got the hang of what to do with long hair.) Then he dismantled all the wards he had originally cast. And the lack of them in the back of his mind made him feel naked and vulnerable.

This time he'd need to anchor the wards to a stone. A ward stone. He'd need to carve runes in on the stone as well as the corner points of the space he was warding before he could even start layering the wards. Instead of layering them around the space, he had to layer them around the ward stone, which would control the wards of the space. Then he'd need to power it up with his blood. He was hoping that if he asked nicely, Hogwarts might help him, both with using one of the stones in the floor and in tying his wards loosely to the school wards so they would power the cupboard wards.

As if she'd heard him, a stone in the middle of the floor seemed to struggle and hop out of its place, leaving a hole the size of his head. He ran a hand over a wall, in thanks and picked up the stone. It was heavy but smooth and square.

Despite feeling vulnerable without wards around him, Harry took his time to carve runes unto the underside of the stone. They were complex and intricate, setting the stone up to be the anchor points to the wards in his cupboard, he also had to add runes linked to the runes he'd carve unto the floor walls and ceiling setting the space the wards would be covering. Then there were the runes powering the wards, and a couple of wards that were not at all spell based but made entirely of runes.

It was a complex process that took more time than he had thought. Each set of runes around the cupboard was carved into the underside of stone so they would not be seen, making it harder to find and break. Each rune had to be connected to the others through spell work and then powered up by his blood. By the time he had finished all the carving and was ready for the spell work of the wards themselves, he was a little light-headed.

The wards themselves were much the same as before, proximity wards, a ward to keep out those with ill intent, a ward to keep out those not of his blood, or with his magical signature... the list went on. A carefully honed set of wards meticulously planned so even if someone did find his cupboard, and it was still under notice-me-not, and a disillusionment charm, then they would not be able to get in.

He tied it all up with a parseltongue password, on the door. Wards finished he sealed the ward stone with a spell, and with Hogwarts help settled the stone back into the floor, rune side down.

The stone gave a shiver, and when he put a bloody hand onto it and willed magic into it, he felt his wards flair to life, stronger than ever before, before settling neatly in between Hogwarts wards, powered by her magic, and his blood. They were subtle in the grand scheme of thing. Not something Dumbledore, the ward holder of the castle, would notice.

A wave of relief went through him again, as he familiarised himself with his wards in his mind. He could feel them more clearly than Hogwarts wards, as he was the caster, the holder of the wards. Hogwarts wards were still slightly blurred, as while he was heir he was not yet lord. He had little sway over the wards until that day.

He unpacked his clothes and books onto the shelves, laid out his nest of blankets in his corner on the floor after carefully layering his warming and cushioning charms, and set his little dragons and jar of bluebell frames on the shelf over the door.

He was packing his back again for class on Monday when something fell out of it. The sneaker scope. He stared at it, lying silently on the floor. He'd forgotten that he'd pulled it out of his original trunk before the first task. He'd forgotten stowing it in his bag. Moody had said they were too unreliable here, so Harry had pulled his own out just in case. Surely anything suspicious was worth paying attention to.

But Ron had said it was rubbish when he'd first given it to him.

But then again, the twins had put beetles in the soup that night. And it had been spinning and ringing all third year when Sirius Black had been trying to break in to get Scabbers; who was really Peter Pettigrew.

So really it was no wonder it had always been going off. Maybe it was much more accurate than anyone thought. Meaning it whistled for Moody due to Moody being sneaky and up to something. So he put a silencing spell on it and slipped it back into his bag. He should be able to feel it vibrating.

He cast a tempos charm, just enough time to get up the Room of Requirement to meat the other before dinner. Hopefully, they could sneak into the kitchens and sit at that Gryffindor table to bend McGonagall order.

"Thank you Hogwarts," he murmured as he donned his cloak, grabbed his cloak, the map and slipped out of the cupboard.

He was exhausted after all the wards working, and was more than ready for a good meal and to see his friends.


	60. Chapter 60 A Reckoning

Harry, Hermione, Fred, George and Neville, did indeed eat dinner at the Gryffindor table, but the one in the kitchens, not the one in the Great Hall. It was interesting seeing the elves bustle around, sending food along the four house tables and up into the great hall. But the elves seemed happy to see them, and Tippy came up and hugged Harry's knees before bustling away to finish preparing the dinner.

They were joined by Luna, who looked at Harry and said in the way of greeting, "Oh! All the Bumble-zingers stalking are gone, Harry!"

Harry thought a moment, recalling the last time she'd said something similar and said, "yes, I had help shifting them over the break."

"That's good," she said dreamily, looking rather satisfied.

"Luna?" Harry asked carefully, "can you tell me if you see any more Bumble-zingers stalking me? Or any of us? We've been working hard to get rid of them, but I'm worried they'll come back."

She looked at him for a long moment, then beamed and nodded.

They spent an enjoyable meal in the kitchens talking about their holidays, and Luna's plans for the next edition of the Quibbler. With the contract, she had made with Harry, and her subsequent articles, her father was letting her do more and more for the paper; to Luna's delight.

Winky brought over steaming plates piled high with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. And Harry left the kitchens feeling happy and content, if uncomfortably full some time later.

Filius Flitwick cast his gaze intently along his house table, watching his students. Ever since Severus's revelation about his Raven's bullying Ms Lovegood, he'd been keeping a closer eye on them. He'd been horrified to learn how much subtle nastiness was going on. The number of mornings Ms Lovegood for one was missing shoes, items of clothing or books, had astounded him. He'd been spending more time marking papers in the common room recently and was pleased to see that slowly, his presence and former hand was paying off.

He frowned. Ms Lovegood was missing from the feast. He cast a practised eye over the rest of the hall, noticing who else was missing.

Ah, yes, he thought, not surprised and summoned an elf, discretely, to confirm his suspicions.

"They're missing again," Severus said as he sat down next to Filius, "and I know Minerva tried to order them to be at the Gryffindor table for the feast tonight. As if that would go down well with the rest of the red and gold dunderheads."

The elf popped back in, whispered something in Filius's ear then popped away again.

Filius snorted, "they are at the Gryffindor table, but the one down in the kitchens, not the hall like she meant!"

Severus took a sip of wine, to stop himself snickering, and they both turned to Minerva, who was deep in conversation with Albus and didn't look happy. She did not seem to have noticed so many of her students missing.

"she should have been more specific in her orders then," he said to Filius before turning to Minerva.

Intending to gleefully poke a hornet's nest, Severus asked, "you're missing some of your lions, Minerva."

It was fun baiting her, especially when he was treated to that pinched expression as if she's sucked on a lemon as she cast an eye down her house's table.

"Who knows what the twins are up to, but Ms Granger and Mr Longbottom seemed to have picked up Potter's unfortunate habit of seeming to disappear, and break the rules! That boy! You were right Severus! He needs a sterner hand. We've let him get away with far too much."

Severus raised an eyebrow, "really? You don't seem concerned by this absence Minerva?"

"We have not seen them eating at their table for quite some time, Minerva. Maybe they have a reason for not being there" Filius said pointedly.

"Of course not," she dismissed, "he'll be in for more detention for this latest stunt though."

Filius and Severus exchanged worried looks. How could she possibly be that oblivious!

"You are going down to collect some ingredients from Pemonia after the feast, are you not?" Fillips asked Severus after a time.

"Indeed," the dour man said, "we shall be taking care of Minerva's mess then?"

"Yes, it's gone on too long."

"Good" was all he said, "I'll see you for a drink after curfew."

Harry reluctantly trudged up to Dumbledore's office after dinner. He'd really rather not. But Odment, one of the headmaster's main elves, had approached him as he was leaving the kitchens, a terribly reluctant look on the elf's face. Harry knew it would be better to get the confrontation over with. He was somewhat unwilling to spoil his post-meal haze of contentment.

Afterwards, he wished he hadn't gone.

"I have an appointment," Harry said morosely to the Gargoyle. The Gargoyle rolled it's eyes sympathetically before it patted him on the head (surprisingly gently) and jumped aside. Bemused, Harry went up, but his amusement died at the sight of the open door.

He knocked as he stepped in, but did not sit down. He just kept his face blank and fixed his gaze on a corner of Dumbledore's desk, not meeting anyones eyes.

"Well Met Professors," he said formally.

McGonagall made a 'humph,' noise. Dumbledore considered him for a long moment; the tips of his long fingers pressed together in a steeple under his chin. He said nothing for a long moment, gazing at Harry with a sharp eye. Harry could feel the man's magic swirling, and a small legilimency probe reach towards him.

Biting back panic, Harry tried not to let anything else fill his mind. He didn't want Dumbledore to know he knew occlumency, but he didn't want the man in his head either. He needed the man to see innocuous, harmless surface thoughts.

Shit!

He felt Hogwart's magic flair around him suddenly as he panicked.

Panicking makes it harder to occlude. Bugger!

He forced his thoughts to his detentions, dinner and the unjust irritation.

Fawkes let out a chirrup and glided across to perch on Harry's shoulder, claiming his attention, just as the legilimency probe brushed against the edges of Harry's mind. The bird was a warm, heavy weight on his shoulder, comforting. The Phoenix's warmth dispelled the chill that had been in Harry's bones since winter had set in.

Fawkes let out a warble and started nibbling at Harry's hair, preening it, much like Hedwig liked to. Harry snorted softly, reaching up a hand to scratch Fawkes chin, as he felt the probe vanish. Dumbledore hadn't gotten hold of anything of use, and Harry knew he had Fawkes and Hogwarts to thank for it. He'd have to put in some more Occlumency practice if he was buckling under pressure.

Thank you, he sent out mentally to Fawkes and the castle.

The castle gave him a mental pat on the back, as Fawkes kept pulling gently at his hair.

"I am very disappointed in you, Harry," Dumbledore said finally, looking at Harry with that old sad look that had once made Harry feel like dirt. But now Harry could feel the old man's irritation, hidden behind forced disappointment.

"Mr Potter, sir," Harry said calmly. He wasn't about to let the old man get away with familiarity.

Nor was he going to tell him he'd changed his name, however.

"Is there anything you wish to tell me, Harry?" The man said, ignoring the correction.

"Mr Potter, please, sir," Harry said, still petting Fawkes, who was preening strands of Harry's hair as if it were feathers, pulling strands out of his ponytail.

Harry felt another flash of Dumbledore's irritation, and the man shot Fawkes a disapproving look before turning back to Harry.

"Where were you this Christmas, Harry?" He asked.

"Mr Potter, please, sir," Harry repeated, his eyes hardening, his heart still pounding.

The old man was testing his compulsion, expecting Harry to be the good little puppet. Well, the old fool could go fuck himself. Maybe if Harry repeated it like a broken record, perhaps the idiot might get the point eventually. Stupid fucking fool Harry fumed, only half paying attention to what the old goat was waffling about.

"And speaking again with the Quibbler Harry after I had told you how bad an idea it was?" Dumbledore continued. "When you left my office last I thought we had been in accord, Harry, my boy." He said pointedly, "Imagine my surprise when Sirius sent me the copy you sent him."

Harry felt a stab of betrayal that Sirius was still going straight to Dumbledore with his letter. But he was unsurprised.

"I am very disappointed, Harry, my boy." The old man said, sounding very let down. But the hard undercurrent to the man's magic betrayed the man's anger that he'd kept hidden behind the visage of a kindly old man.

"Mr Potter. I am not your boy," Harry said coldly, his voice hard, "you're very unprofessional, sir."

"Oh for heaven's sake, Albus," Professor McGonagall said, "this is getting you nowhere! You may as well call him by his surname! Lord knows, Severus is right, you've coddled him enough and look where it's got you!" She said, with a huff.

Dumbledore sighed, sounding old and tired and sad.

None of which he actually felt, Harry knew. The old man was fuming. Fuming and plotting. It made Harry nervous.

"Well, Mr Potter," McGonagall said pointedly, "what do you have to say for yourself."

"Well, in regards to the Quibbler, there is nothing wrong with what I did and no rules against it. I spoke to Ms Lovegood as I know her. And after the rubbish, Ms Skeeter printed last time, I felt Ms Lovegood was a safer bet. It's not as if I had any adults to protect me from the media, as was the case with the tournament. So I worked out a contract with Ms Lovegood. It's beneficial for both of us to work together," Harry explained coldly, still stroking Fawkes' feathers, "I was not about to let the rubbish Ms Skeeter wrote go uncontested. Ms Lovegood and the Quibbler offered me a way to protect myself, that worked out well for both of us. So really sir, I don't understand the issue?"

"You have made a great deal of trouble for Hogwarts, with your rumours of it's safety. Hogwarts is the only stronghold children may have if he does return. Really, my boy, you should have trusted that I was handling Rita." Dumbledore said.

"Like you handled my Godfathers trial?" Harry retorted, "you promised you'd help him when you told us to help him escape back in third year. You said you'd do everything you could to help him get the freedom he deserves and he's still on the run."

"Harry, my boy! I have already banned Rita from the grounds. You are safe here, as you know." Dumbledore said.

"So safe," Harry spat sarcastically, "and it's Mr Potter, sir. I'm not your boy."

"As for Sirius," Dumbledore said, ignoring him, "you should have trusted that I was handling it. It will make it all the harder to get him a trial now, Harry. And without Peter, he can't have one anyway, my boy."

Harry's blood boiled, "then you should have said that when you told us to use the time-turner to help him escape instead of making empty promises!"

"Albus!" McGonagall said clapping a hand over her mouth, "a time turner, to save Sirius Black? With 13-year-olds! You didn't! You know the danger of-"

But Dumbledore continued, ignoring her completely, "I'm most disappointed in you Harry. You're not the boy I thought you would be. Your parents would be so ashamed, as would your aunt. This is not the sweet boy she's raised you to be," he said sighing sadly, "which brings us back to the reason you're here. You should not have run away over Christmas."

"They didn't raise me, as you well know!" Harry spat out, "you know they treat me like dirt! You've seen the scars!"

"Then why were you so eager to leave the confines of the castle then?" Dumbledore asked persistently as McGonagall snapped, "Albus is that true?"

Harry could feel her magic shifting and Dumbledore's rising in alarm.

Interesting, but Harry didn't really care just then.

He laughed hollowly at them, as Fawkes kept preening his hair, persistently.

"Don't pretend you care professor. You never have before, and it's rather unbecoming." Harry said frostily before turning back to the headmaster who was looking at him disapprovingly, clearly still waiting for an answer.

"Stay for the holidays against their wishes and run the risk of their displeasure over the summer?" Harry asked, "I know you think I'm stupid sir," he said, ignoring Dumbledore's pretend protest, "but I'm not that stupid. There would have been hell to pay. And her idea of punishment always hurts much more than it does here."

There was no point hiding it. Not any more. Not when McGonagall didn't care and never listened. Not when Dumbledore knew how bad it was, and didn't care. Not when Harry had shown the man all the scars in a desperate bid to prove he couldn't go back. Those first two years of school, he'd pleaded on his knees, sobbing, as he had begged not to be sent back.

But every year Dumbledore had just said, "I'm sure it's not that bad, they love you. It is your home. You must return Harry, my boy."

Harry had begged after his first and second year, but hadn't even bothered asking at the end of third year.

What was the point? And why bother hiding it? Those that knew and didn't care.

Besides, Harry thought he felt a satisfying stab of guilt from Dumbledore and shocked horror from McGonagall. If he could use his truth as a weapon against people that seemed determined to either use him or abuse him... then he would.

"It's Mr Potter, sir. And like I said before break," Harry went on reining in his temper, "Petunia had an important Christmas party with Vernon's clients. She wanted me to do up the house and cook for her. She hate's doing housework when she can make me do it" Harry said matter of factly, "and why should it matter? I thought you'd be pleased with me voluntarily going back? You always insist I must stay there for the summer."

"And as I said my boy," Dumbledore started, "you were instructed to stay for the ball. You had duties here. A poor example you have set to our foreign guests. You were sorely missed over the break, Harry."

Harry could not hold back a snort of disbelief at the idea that he had been missed. Yes, he had been so missed that his house had kicked him out and students routinely insulted him and hexed him in the corridors, he thought sarcastically.

"Like I said, sir," he said bitterly, absently reaching up to derail Fawkes before the bird pulled his hair tie out completely, "I was needed at Petunia's over the break. I'm not exactly a real champion. No one wanted me in this to start with, so it was not as if my absence would cause a real issue, sir. I have neither broken the tournament contract, nor any school rules."

You old fuckwit, he thought snidely.

"You have set a horrible example to your peers Harry," the man went on, "you have let Hogwarts down immensely, my boy."

Harry clenched his jaw at the attempted guilt trip, as Dumbledore went on, relentlessly, "as I said before the break, my boy, when we had our little chat, you were needed here. Your childish anger and this rebellious streak is most un-becoming Harry, my boy," he went on.

Harry could feel the mans magic flair domineeringly. He forced his own magic back, not letting it flair up in defiant defence, like it wanted to. He could not afford to give away his magic's freedom.

But the old goat was still talking, "your fit of temper is rather ungrateful, don't you think my boy?"

Harry just tuned the man out; it was all the same. It was rather tedious, especially when Harry could sense that Dumbledore was trying to manipulate his compliance.

Besides it was much nicer to focus on Fawkes' magic pulsing warmly against his own as the bird continued to messing with his hair attempting to pull harry's hair tie out, again, to Harry's grateful amusement.

"You have greatly disappointed and let Hogwarts down Harry," Dumbledore went on, "you will be serving your detentions with Mr Filch every evening until the second task."

Harry gaped at the man.

That was a lot more detention than what McGonagall had given. Filch was well known for keeping students well past midnight in their detentions, and every night until the task would leave him little to no time for homework, let alone the tournament, or sleep if he didn't have the time time-turner.

If Dumbledore was trying to make him so tired and overworked that he fell into line, he should know it wouldn't work. It hadn't worked at the Dursley's, and it wouldn't work with here either.

"What about my homework, sir?" He asked, biting back irritation. He hadn't done anything wrong! And even if he had, detention every night for over a month, was insane!

"You should have thought about that before you ran off!" McGonagall snapped.

"I see," Harry said coldly, "is that all then? I should go and get some studying done tonight then to make up for everything I won't get done this term."

"Return Fawkes to his perch first though, Harry my boy," Dumbledore said.

Harry looked a the bird, who seemed to have no intention of stopping his ministrations. The bird just let out a trill before going back to nibbling at Harry's hair tie, finally succeeded in getting the pesky thing free.

Harry let out an amused huff as his hair fell around his shoulders and in his face. The bird chirruped and passed Harry the tie.

"Thanks, buddy," Harry said, taking the tie from the bird with a sardonic look. The bird looked far too satisfied with himself. If a Phoenix could smirk, Fawkes would be.

"What did you do to your hair Potter?" McGonagall asked suddenly.

Harry brushed a strand back behind his ear and gave the bird a disapproving look. The bird just trilled and rubbed his head against Harry's cheek filling Harry with a magical warmth.

Harry snorted, scratched the bird under his chin and said to the professor, "Petunia hates my hair. Say's it's a horrible birds nest, this one seems to agree," he said with a soft smile to the bird, "I figured my aunt might beat less if I finally managed to get it under control."

That wasn't true. That was not why he had done it, but that did not matter and it was something she would have done. Either way, it got a reaction. McGonagall looked white and appalled. Harry felt a twist of savage satisfaction at the expression as he said, "it was idea. Pity it didn't work. She still hates my guts."

"Now Harry-" Dumbledore started.

But Harry ignored him and continued, "Bill suggested I grow it longer to get it to behave, so I brewed a potion for it, as it won't grow by itself."

"What do you mean it doesn't grow?" McGonagall asked, and Harry could feel her magic shifting and Dumbledore's rising in alarm again.

Now wasn't that interesting, he thought.

She turned to Dumbledore "Could he be a-"

"I'm sure it's not that," Dumbledore cut her off sharply, alarm leaking out of him, "I'm sure its nothing to worry about Minerva," he said, and Harry narrowed his eyes.

So Dumbledore knew and wanted it hidden. Just as well he had a ready made excuse to hide his Metamorphmagic from the man. But McGonagall was maybe starting to suspect.

Interesting.

What would she do with that information? Would she step up?

"Your detentions will start tonight after dinner." Dumbledore said, ending the subject. "You may leave Harry, but your new attitude has to go, my boy. You're not a baby anymore, stop acting like one."

"My name is Mr Potter," Harry said coldly, "and I am not your boy."

"Your parents would be so disappointed in you."

"Well as they died when I was a baby I wouldn't know," he said harshly, "but as my mother literally died to save me, I think she'd just be happy I've managed to stay alive, no thanks to you." He said, ignoring McGonagall's gasp.

Harry gave Fawkes one last stroke before returning the bird to his porch. He did not see McGonagall frowning at Dumbledore.

Harry felt awful. He knew Dumbledore was just trying to manipulate him into doing what he was told. The man was just trying to guilt him into following his orders. But he still felt like a failure and a disappointment. Like he'd let the man down. And that should not have mattered! What did he care if the old moron was disappointed in him!

He remembered the sharp brush of the man's legilimacy and the threatening swell of the man's magic, and he hardened his heart. He'd done nothing wrong, and he would not let the man walk him to his death.

He would not be serving those detentions, and they would not be getting away with it.

He was almost at the door when the fire flared green. Harry jumped spinning around, then sighed in irritation when he saw Rita Skeeta.

Balls, he swore mentally.

"Running away, Harry?" She asked in a sickeningly sweet voice, "I see you've had a change in hair style, trying to impress anyone?"

"Running away ma'am?" He said politely, "I was just dismissed. And no, it's easer to keep neat this way."

She gave him a look of mock disappointment at the denial of impressing anyone but said, "the headmaster has promised me an interview with you!" She turned to Dumbledore accusingly.

Before Dumbledore could reply, Harry jumped on the opportunity, "I'm sorry if he gave you that impression ma'am, but I have a binding magical contract with Ms Lovegood and the Quibbler. I am only able to give an interview to her, as you well know. Only she can use my name."

"Ah but as your magical guardian Harry, Dumbledore can dissolve the silly little contract," she said.

Harry felt Dumbledore's magic swell again, and Harry felt his heart pound, and his adrenaline rush, "I'm not sure what you mean ma'am." Harry said, choosing his words with an artists care, hoping to paint the man into a grave of his own digging.

"He's mentioned something about a magical guardian before, but I don't understand why that would help? He's made it clear after my name came out of the goblet that I had no choice. No-one could break a binding magical contract. If no-one was able to break that binding magical contract, why would someone now be able to break this one?" Harry said with careful naivety, neatly backing Dumbledore into a corner.

He fought to keep the savage smile off his face as Rita's eyes lit up and Dumbledore's magic spiked angrily again. Thankfully, Hogwarts magic rose up around him protectively like a cat with claws.

"But Harry-" she started with the voice of a cat who had caught the canary.

"Now Harry," Dumbledore cut in, "you really should talk to Rita, my boy,"

And Harry could feel the magic behind those trigger words, but they washed passed him ineffectively.

"I can't, sir, ma'am," Harry said simply, "I can not talk to any other journalists and cannot be forced into any interviews. No-one else can use my name other than the Quibbler. It's in a binding magical contract. And as you said, sir, no-one can break those. So I really cannot speak to Ms Skeeter."

"But Harry, surely you're not saying minors can make binding magical contracts without their guardian's permission, that's absurd." Skeeter said, "of course, Dumbledore as your guardian can brea-"

Harry was disappointed when Dumbledore cut Skeeter off from the hole she was trying to dig him into. He would have enjoyed the show.

"Harry, what have you done?" The man asked almost sharply now.

"Nothing, sir." Harry said calmly, "after the articles she wrote, I went to Luna and her dad drew up a contact, to protect me from the media. I signed it. I figured that since someone else could enter me into the tournament contract against my will with just my name alone, and no-one could break it. I figured I could make one to protect me as well. If no-one could break the tournament contract, no-one could break this one.

Harry smirked inwardly, at the gleam in Skeeter's eyes, and hoped it would spell a lot of trouble for Dumbledore, not him. Things had been unfortunately quiet in regards to the response Harry had hoped for after the Quibbler's articles about the man.

Harry held back a wicked grin and instead put on a politely apologetic smile, "I'm sorry if you were brought here under false pretences Ms Skeeter. I was not aware a meeting had been scheduled, or I would have reminded you about the contact and the clauses in it, as you well know." He added pointedly.

That contract had been automatically sent out to every news organisation in Britain. She knew this. She knew he could not and would not talk to her. She knew he was safe from the clutches of her poison quill. And yet, she still tried; at Dumbledores behest?

"Now if you don't mind, sir, ma'am I have detentions to plan for," he said frostily glaring at Dumbledore and turned and left.

Fawkes, let out a sad trill as he left.

My lady? Harry asked, mentally reaching out to the castle as the anger that he'd held back that whole meeting threatened to spill forth and choke him.

That man would pay. Dumbledore would burn, even if it took Harry years. The man would pay.

Harry felt more than heard, Hogwarts attention turn to him, curious, wrapping herself comfortingly, soothingly, around him.

My lady, your headmaster has been dishonourable. He has put the children under his care at risk; he has put me at risk. He will burn because of it.

He felt her stir, magic rising and prickling, swelling like a king tide. Hogwarts was stirring again, angry now. She may not be able to do anything directly, but she could help her heir. And she would. She protected her own.

Beneath him, he could feel magic shifting, and he thought he could almost sense the house-elves in the kitchens begin to whisper, and the ghosts begin to stir.

In the headmaster's office, the portraits shifted uneasily in their sleep, and the Sorting Hat's mouth twitched for a moment as if in a smile.

Hogwarts was waking up again; now her heir was here. And she was angry. One of her own had been hurt, her students had been hurt, and her head had betrayed his sacred duty.

They will pay.

And Harry wasn't sure if it was Hogwarts speaking or him. But it was true. Even if it took him an age, they would pay for the pain they had caused.

Where might I find Peeves, my lady? He asked without actually saying a word aloud.

He felt a surge of vindictive glee from the castle and saw a picture of one of the disused runes classrooms near the astronomy tower and Peeves manically writing rude things on the blackboard.

Harry grinned, thank you, my lady, he thought before setting off. He had a poltergeist to bargain with.

0o0o0o0

END NOTES

I don't know if king tides are an auzzy thing or not but it Australia in march and April, the tide are stronger, bigger, and more dangerous. We call them king tides. It has something to do I think with the moon being closer to us or something. It makes the water stronger and more dangerouse if you don't respect her.


	61. Chapter 61 Peeves and Hekate

Thank you for all your supportive reviews! This is for you.

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Feel free to leave reviews in your own language if your more comfortable, I'm happy to stick it into my translation program ?

Happy reading!

0o0o0o0

Everyone knew Peeves respected and listened to nobody (except the Barron.) Peeves loved to reap chaos and would be a perfect way for Harry to get back a Dumbledore, without drawing any suspicion upon himself.

And Peeves would be just the start of Harry's war on the man.

When Harry found Peeves, the Poltergeist had moved from writing rude poetry on the black board. He was now drawing rude illustrations to accompany his work with alarming detail. He turned upside down and peered curiously at Harry, blew a raspberry before saying, "Ickle Potter the Rotter!"

"Hello, Peeves," Harry said.

"What does Potty want with old Peeves? We knows you wants us," the Poltergeist said grinning cheekily.

"I have a business proposition for you Peeves," Harry said, pulling out the bag of Jumbo Dungbombs Fred and George had given him for Christmas.

"How do you feel about some guerrilla warfare Peeves? I have a job for you; some targeted havoc reeking, on my behalf, anonymously, of course." Harry said, snatching back the bag of Dungbombs before the Poltergeist could grab it. "and I'm sure Hogwarts would be happy to help you."

The castle's magic stirred wickedly around them. She felt gleeful, vengeful, and Harry delighted in it.

Peeves looked at Harry with a surprisingly shrewd expression then cackled madly and clapping his hands.

Some time later, they had reached an accord. Peeve had started cackling again before he then spat into his palm and held it out for Harry to shake, to seal the deal.

Harry didn't hesitate to spit into his own palm and shake on it, handing over the Dungbombs.

Much more cheerful after his chat with Peeves, and then with the Barron, Harry went up to the Room of Requirement to see his friends.

The room looked similar to the Gryffindor common room except in tones of red, yellow, blue and bronze. The twins were lounging in hammocks while Luna, Hermione and Neville were sprawled out on the floor reading books around the fire.

Hermione jumped up when she saw Harry.

"How was it?" She asked worriedly, whipping her wand out and casting some of the scanning spells over Harry.

He hadn't thought he felt any of Dumbledores magic bespelling him, but he couldn't be sure and he let Hermione's magic washed over him reassuringly as she tested him.

"Awful, but fine. Find anything?" He asked.

"No," she said, sitting down again and pulling Harry down next to her, "you seem clean, but it might be worth getting Bill to check you when you see him."

Harry nodded at her, and she said, "so what happened?"

"Skeeter turned up," He said and proceeded to tell them everything.

"Hopefully she'll dig into why Dumbledore made me compete in the task, and bring him some trouble." He said hoping but not having any real faith that anything would go wrong for the man.

"Technically she can't. That would involve naming you. She can't. So she can't write about what he did to you," Luna reminded gently, "but we could do an article on it."

"That might be a good idea. But then maybe it's not. If we bring that light onto him, it will draw his attention to me. I'm already pretty sure he knows his compulsions are off. He was testing them," Harry said worriedly.

"What if he works out I'm almost emancipated and just need a Ministry okay?" He continued worriedly.

"Nothing he can do," Neville said, "not without admitting to negligence, and abuse in the form of neglect and opening a huge can of worms for himself."

"And he won't do that," Hermione said, "but he can make things much harder for you here, and it is a risk. It was a risk alone in letting that much slip in front of Skeeter. It gives her power over you if she knows your secrets.

"True, but hopefully Skeeter will keep him busy for a bit along with the rumours the Quibbler has been starting up. I'm hoping Skeeter will look into him and start trashing him. Unlikely, he's well-liked, but one can dream." He said smiling,

"Besides," he continued, "I set Peeves on his ass as payback."

"You what?" Fred and George said.

"You made a deal with Peeves?" Neville asked.

"I asked him to reap havoc on the headmaster, gorilla warfare style for me." Harry said, "he seemed rather pleased about it to be honest. I don't think Hogwarts is too pleased with her headmaster at the moment," Harry said with bitter delight, "and Peeves is in a way an extension of her. Like dry rot in a wall."

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the analogy, but Fred and George grinned and said, "wicked!"

"We'll have to conspire with him and-"

"make sure he has enough supplies."

"Thanks," Harry said dryly thinking of all the chaos that would ensure from Peeves and the Weasley twins working together. He didn't hold back his own grinned but then sobered, "we have a problem," he said, remembering why they were here.

"What's up Harry-kins?" Fred asked

"the un-housing!" Harry said, "I wrote to you!"

"Oh, that," George said.

"Oh, that!?" Hermione shrieked, "it's going to be horrible for you! It's a huge black mark for no reason!"

"Well," said Luna dreamily, "I have journalist contracts for you all. You'll need your guardians to sign it too though," she said, "that will stop Skeeter using your names, and slandering you, if it gets out. We'll run our own article about it this month first. A preemptive strike. It's really not very nice of your old house to do that. Not very Gryffindor of them."

"Thanks, Luna," Harry said, "your the best."

As the others took their contracts, Harry explained everything he had found about the un-housing.

"You lot still have a few days to go back to Gryffindor and persuade them to take you back," he said finally, when he'd finished explaining just how serious and far-reaching the effects of the un-housing would be, "you don't have to go through this all for me."

"Don't be stupid," said Fred

"Yeah mate, don't be daft," added, George.

Hermione shot Harry a 'see? I told you so look.'

"At least think about it," Harry pleaded, "it could mean your futures are on the line!"

"Don't need to mate," said Neville, quietly making the others nod.

"Besides," said Hermione, clenching her jaw stubbornly despite her panic, "we can apply for a resorting! We can get a re-sort if two heads of house approve, and if three approve it will cancel out any un-housing from our records!"

"So we just need to apply for be resorted!" Fred said,

"We can ask Flitwick, he's fair," added George.

"We have him Monday morning," Fred said.

"We'll ask him then," finished George.

"I can ask Professor Sprout," said Neville, "she'll help. She'd been really good to me."

"that will get us a re-sort," Harry said "but two alone won't wipe out the black mark and will still cause issues for us. We'll still have the consequences of being un-housed at least for the rest of the year, and we'll still have that black mark next to our name."

"Professor McGonagall won't have time," Hermione said after a moment, a look of panic flashing across her eyes again, "and Professor Snape hates you. He'll never help."

"So we're back to square one, at least think about going back to Gryffindor," Harry urged them.

There was a heavy silence in the room, before the others reluctantly nodded. Harry wondered if they would think about it or if they were just humouring him. He wasn't sure which he would rather.

"Anyway," said George, changing the subject

"We better get these contracts signed and owled off to our folks, before curfew," Fred said, pulling George up with him.

"coming Nev'?" George said.

Neville nodded, and they broke up for the night.

Harry left the forest around midnight, after his meeting/lesson with the centaurs.

He had skipped his first 'detention'.

He wasn't going, and if they couldn't find him, they couldn't make him do it. He'd not done anything wrong.

He stepped under the cover of the trees and pulled off his cloak. The air was crisper here. It was filled with the aroma of the unceasing cycle of life and decay. He felt his body relax at the familiar scent. It was like coming home. He'd enjoyed Nocturne. But he'd missed this.

It had been good to be back in the forest, and it felt even more alive than it had before. Harry was positively buzzing with all the ambient magic he'd picked up from it. Firenze had spent a good hour or two just teaching him how to meditate on the magic of the forest and be both aware of everything but not overwhelmed and 'high,' on it as the centaur had called it, borrowing the human term.

The forest had been dark without the moon, and Harry had almost tripped a number of times in the dark as he made his way back to the shallower forest from the deep forest that was Centaur territory. Once the trees were spaced out enough that he could see the sky, he mounted his broom and took off.

He planned to dedicate himself to Hekate, and the night of the dark moon was the best night for it. The dark moon was her moon phase. He had a rough ritual dedication planned out; he just wasn't sure where he was going to do it.

The best place would be at a crossroads, but he didn't want to do it where corridors in the castle crossed for fear of being discovered. But he wasn't sure if he wanted to leave the safety of Hogwarts' wards either. There was a crossroads where the road to the station and the Hogsmeade main road crossed, but it was too open and exposed.

And once Harry started the ritual; he didn't want to be stopped or interrupted. He needed a more secluded one.

He looped in and out of the castle turrets and towers for a bit, enjoying the rush of doing it in the dark. He wasn't scared of being seen, it was too dark, and he was flying too fast, but he'd finally mastered the disillusionment charm. Now his magic was free, it was easy to cast the charm and will his magic to make himself into a human chameleon. The sensation was very similar to using his metamorph skills. The internal magic was quite similar.

It was closer to midnight when he reached out to Hogwarts for her advice. Hogwarts didn't so much as speak back, or point him in the right direction, but he could suddenly feel the lines of natural magic the school was sitting on, much more strongly than before. Some of which led back into the forest.

He rose high in the air and flew over the forest. He'd been outside long enough that he's eyes had adjusted, but it was still hard to see the ground between all the trees. Eventually deeper in the forest he spotted an old path leading back to the school, that intersected with an old road to the village. Both paths were old and had long been reclaimed by the trees and woods. But there were still faint signs of it.

The perfect crossroads.

Harry landed, pulled his mother's book on their goddess out of his pocket and placed it down in the centre. Next, he pulled out a small ritual cauldron he'd found in his mother's things and put in some Cypress, sandalwood and fresh peppermint. A flick of his wand and it was alight, he blew on it to douse the flame until it was smouldering slowly, releasing a pleasant smelling smoke.

He then sat down in front of it, lit a large black candle and said, "Hail Hekate, Queen of the Crossroads, Queen of the Night, Hail Hekate, the Witch's Queen."

Then he stopped, his notes and things said he should cast a circle next, and make some kind of chant or prayer to his goddess. He was meant to hail and welcome her and make a partition of greeting. But it just didn't feel right.

Something was stopping him.

If anything he felt like he'd really just thrown himself at her mercy during the Gringotts ritual, and it felt a bit odd making another dedication to her now. Really he had thrown himself at her feet in Gringotts and had felt her power and embrace, help him through that gruelling ritual. It felt a bit trite to do a proper dedication now.

They both knew he was now hers for life. He had been from the moment he said her name in the ritual.

He didn't need a further dedication. Not when she had been there when he needed her and had helped him, held him and saved him when that ritual had torn him apart.

No. He was already hers, however unconventional his dedication during the ritual had been.

He was hers.

She already knew that.

That settled he pulled an apple from his pocket, cut it into nine pieces and arranged it neatly in a star around the candle.

"For you, goddess mine," he murmured and his breath caught as the offering lit up in black and green flames. Bowing, Harry collected his candle and empty cauldron before flying back to school.


	62. Chapter 62 Hagrid

That morning after Harry did his rounds in the forest and went for a run; he headed down to the kitchen to meet the others. He was just taking out the Gringotts box to check for mail when the box glowed briefly.

The first note was from Rodgrip. She had received the lord ring, and it was safe where it was meant to be. She had also received the boxes from Dobby from Godrick's Hollow and had placed them in his mother's vault which Harry had taken over and had had blood warded. That vault would now function as his own vault completely separate from any of the old man's plots.

She also send along the paperwork that needed to be signed, by someone from the Department of Magical Maw or the Department of Magical Child Services.

Harry swore under his breath. There went the plan with Bagman. He'd have to see if he could figure out how to make an appointment with someone over the summer to sort it out. Or maybe over the Ostara break.

He scribbled a quick, thank you and opened the second note.

It was a very short sharp response from Riptooth. Harry had scribbled him a plight note the day before asking if it would be okay to take language potions with what he was already on.

The goblin had replied with few words, "No. Feb 2nd, not a day before."

Harry frowned, but when he thought about it, that was when he was due to finish his round of Skelegro. He guessed that made sense. He'd have less time for the language to sink in, but it should be enough for the task.

He scribbled another note back to Riptooth, about an idea he'd been considering, and sent that back through the box before pulling out the last letter.

It was from Sirius.

Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to read the note honestly. Not now he knew all the things Sirius had done to his mum. And to her friend Sev. He may be scared of Professor Snape, he may dislike the man, but no-one deserved the torment he'd gotten from the marauders. And neither did his mum.

Which reminded him, he still hadn't heard back from Lupin. Harry didn't have an owl ward stopping the reply's now, and unless Lupin was a very very long way away, any reply he would have sent would have arrived by now.

Harry almost felt disappointed. But how could he when his father and his friends really weren't what Harry had thought. Not after what they did to his mum. Not after what they did to her friend Sev. And Lupin really wasn't any better, he helped with the pranks, and even when he wasn't actively doing the bullying, he stood by and did nothing.

Really it was probably for the best that Lupin wasn't interested in talking to his best friends son. The man was a coward, and all four of the Marauders were rotten.

Harry shook his head and focused on his godfather's letter. It was short and to the point.

"Thanks for the Quibbler, Harry, I appreciate your efforts and thanks for the pudding, it was delicious. Feel free to send more!

What's going on? I haven't heard from you in a while. Dumbledore said you'd run away for Christmas?

Sirius."

Harry scowled and scribbled on the back, 'I'm fine, my guardians insisted I go back for a break.' He'd take it up to the owlery later.

"Morning, Harry," Hermione said, as she and the others trudged sleepily into the kitchen.

"Morning," Harry said, looking up noting that Neville and the twins watched as he pocketed an apple to use as offering later. He tended but didn't hide it. But said nothing, and he relaxed a touch.

"We'll have to persuade McGonagall, we're not backing down Harry," Neville said, in the way of greeting.

Harry gapped at Neville, momentarily surprised.

At Harry's disbelieving look Neville continued, "Fred and George want to run their own business, so it won't affect them. Any loan they need will be from Gringotts who don't care about that stuff. I have an apprenticeship lined up with Professor Sprout after Newts assuming I don't flunk. Hermione, it may effect, I don't know what she wants. But I suspect," Neville continued, "that like the rest of us she's had this whole break to think it over and isn't changing her mind. We're with you harry. It's not up for debate."

Neville put a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry's heart sank a bit; he didn't want to drag his friends into all this mess because of him. But he was touched too.

"As Neville said before," Fred said, "we want to run our own business anyway, so it doesn't matter."

"But damn," George added in jokingly, "we'll have to behave in class now if we don't want to waste time in a million detentions."

"And even if I do flunk Herbology, which is unlikely, my family runs greenhouses, and I'll be a Lord. It doesn't matter. It's an archaic, unnecessary thing now anyway."

"They're right," Hermione said, "I've told you before, with you until the end. And we can still try asking Professor McGonagall. She might still agree. We just need to prepare for the fallout, and find some solutions."

"Speaking of which, my gran sent the contract straight to Mr Lovegood, she said it was a very sensible precaution while I'm still in school," Neville said more cheerfully.

"Mum signed it too, and sent it to Mr Lovegood," Fred said

"I didn't think she'd do it," George said, "but she did. Said with all the trouble we get up to its probably just as well if they're willing to do it."

"Well, I asked professor McGonagall to sign mine," Hermione said, "she's my Magical guardian, but she said no, and that it wasn't necessary."

"What?" Harry exclaimed.

Hermione pursed her lips and said in a startlingly accurate imitation of the transfiguration teacher, "Why on earth do you need it? Ms Skeeter is banned from the grounds! And shame on you Ms Granger, to let Potters poor behaviour rub off on you, I expected better!"

"That's nuts," Harry said, "anyone else you can ask?"

"Nope," Hermione said with false cheer, "she also asked me to tell you you skip detention again tonight and she'll send Filch after you, and you'll be given more detention."

"Wicked!" Crowed the twins, high-fiving Harry, "well-done mate! We've never had Filch sent-"

"-to drag us to our detentions! We'll have to try that next!"

"I didn't earn them. I won't let them walk all over me." Harry said.

Hermione bit her lip and hid a smirk as the post arrived.

Harry caught the paper as a post owl dropped it over their heads, and spread it out in the middle so they could all see it.

Unfortunately, the Prophet did not come with good news. Rita Skeeter struck again. But not against quiet against Dumbledore as Harry had hoped. He'd been hoping that between last night and the Quibbler she might start looking more closely at the man. But she hadn't.

But she hadn't mentioned the un-housing either. She'd chosen to pick on Hagrid of all people.

DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE.

It topped with a picture of Hagrid looking extremely shifty.

The article revealed that Hagrid was a Half-Giant on the side of his mother, Fridwulfa. It then went into great detail on how he was unsuitable to be working at Hogwarts and how terrible a teacher he was.

Harry finished reading and looked up at Hermione, Neville, Fred and George feeling stunned.

"Why does it matter?" He asked eventually, "she talks about his mum being a giant it as if it's a big deal. So what? Who cares. My dad was an ass hole."

"No one who knows Hagrid will care," Neville said "but everyone else will, because they'll assume because he has giant blood he has the nature of a Giant. Giants are vicious. It's in their nature, like trolls... they just like killing.

"How did that horrible Skeeter woman find out?" Hermione said, cutting Harry's train of thought off.

"I overheard him talk to Madame Maxime at the yule ball, but Skeeter wasn't there!"

"And what's this rubbish about "we all hate Hagrid'? How on earth did she get those quotes from the Slytherins!" Harry spat.

"And half of the things the Slytherins said isn't true," Neville added in, "a bite of a flobber worm, they don't have teeth!"

"I thought he just swallowed a bottle of Skelegro as a kid," said Fred with a shrug.

"I thought it was a wonky engorgement potion," said George.

Hermione snorted, "either way, we'll have to go down and make sure he's okay."

"Yes, is there anything else in there by her thought? I was hoping she'd mention Dumbledore trying to make me break my journalist contract? Or something," Harry asked, flipping through the paper.

"Yes there look, near the back," Hermione said, pointing. It was a short article, and with the front-page sensation, Harry feared it would be brushed under the rug.

"Is the Chief Warlock getting too old? One of the greatest wizards of our time, defeater of the dark wizard Grindelwald everyone looks to Albus Dumbledore for guidance but does the old man have his hands in too many pies? Is it time for him to step back?

Rumour has it that at the end of the last war, Dumbledore took a personal interest in being magical guardian to the heir of one of our Great Houses, who was a war orphan. However, he has failed to do his duty and to the heir know that he is their guardian or even what that is!

Is Dumbledore a negligent magical guardian? He has obviously failed to fulfil his duty to one of our Great Houses! The man has obviously finally bitten off more than he can chew, and is overtaxed."

"Well, it's better than nothing," Harry said with an irritable huff.

"Let's hope people listen to it," Hermione said.

"True, at least she didn't name me. Come on, let's go check on Hagrid."

But when they got down to Hagrid's hut, the door was shut, the chimney devoid of its usual smoke and all the curtains shut. It was as if none was home. No matter how much they knocked, no-one answered the door, except Fang who howled.

After lunch, and some duelling practice that was both exhausting and exhilarating, though it was becoming less and less formal during and more and more fighting practice, they settled down to discuss extra owls. Fred and George were eager for the extra time, but not so keen on the extra exams, especially formal ones.

They were much happier studying what they needed when they needed it or whatever struck their fancy. Though they had admitted, sitting in on study session for the various owls, particularly with the Slytherins, maybe a good idea.

"You never know what you'll pick up from Ickle Slytherins," George said with a mischievous wink.

Neville was already sighed up to take a few extra that summer, like some of the other Slytherins were. The same ones Harry wanted to do that summer.

"though languages depend on how I go, I have one potion left, and then I'll need to practice, so it sinks in properly," Neville said.

"What languages are you doing, Harry asked, "I'm taking some soon, maybe we can practice together."

"That would be good," Hermione said, cutting in, "I got hold of some too!"

In the end, it was agreed that they would talk to the Slytherins Harry already study with to make time to study for the four owls. They would then see if there were other owls the Slytherins were doing, and Hermione and Harry would work around that to figure out what they kept for when they were using the time turner. It was decided that Neville probably would not need to use the time tuner every night, but like the twins may come alone every so often depending on what happened during the turn.

"You never know when the extra time will come in handy," he said.

That settled, Harry went off to sort out their study space for using when they were using the time turner. He had considered the Shrieking Shack, lord knows he wanted to fix it up and make it usable, but in the end, settled on the Chamber of Secrets. No-one ever went down there, so they would be safe from running into their past selves, especially if they all agreed not to go down unless they were in a time loop.

Though when they later cleared up the Basilisk, they would have to schedule it carefully, so they didn't accidentally see themselves.

They all trouped down to the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry spent an amusing 20 minutes teaching the lot of them how to say the parseltongue password. Harry was pretty sure he would soon have Hermione badgering him to teach her the language.

It took them all afternoon to clean the place up, even with Dobby and Winky helping them.

The cleaning and setting up of the space in itself turned out to be good practice for charms and transfiguration. It took them quite a lot of work to dry and clean the floors and walls, as well as cleaning the water in the side passageways. They worked out it was part of an old system that had been blocked up by something dead, and soon had it clean and running again.

The Chamber was much improved with a good clean, especially once they'd cleared up the blood and between the five of them, had carefully levitated the Basilisk back into the mouth of Salazar Slytherin, out of the way.

That done, they then set about fixing the cave in and reinforce the ceiling and walls. They then had a lot of fun transfiguring desks, chairs, couches and things to sit and study on. They even transfigured some beds and a bathtub that Hermione hooked up with water using runes. They managed to transfigure a toilet bu put vanishing and cleaning runes at the bottom of it, instead of trying to figure out how to get it hooked up to the plumbing. They had more fun conjuring the most ridiculous fabrics they could think of to make creams to separate their study space from their bathroom and bedroom.

But by the time they are finished the Chamber, it would prove to be a good little study space and a nice spot to have a nap. It was terribly exhausting though, and they all ate like like they'd been starved at dinner, in order to try and replenish their magical reserves.

Harry did not go to his detention that night and made sure to stick to the snake passageways when he went back to his cupboard. He was grateful that Dobby and Winky had warded it against other elves. He'd been worried the Headmaster would send one of his elves after him.

Instead, the Headmaster sent Filtch after him. And Harry spent an enjoyable little while watching Filches dot on the map, running all over the Castle trying to find him. Several times Filch went to McGonagall then up to the Headmaster's office. The two of them were then interrupted by Peeves, who showed up on the map as a pale grey dot.

Harry couldn't see what the poltergeist was doing, but he chased them around the office, and Harry went to sleep giggling.

Monday dawned with snow still thick upon the grounds, and the greenhouse windows were covered in condensation so thick that they couldn't see out of them in Herbology. Neville had spoken to Professor Sprout after class, and the others lingered in an effort to put off going back outside into the bitter cold.

Neville didn't go into detail when asking for a resort, but Professor Sprout had taken one look at Neville's nervous face, an expression mirrored by Harry and Hermione and said, "don't worry dears, I'll support your application."

They beamed at her, and somewhat reluctantly trudged out of the greenhouse. They crossed paths with Fred and George as they left. The twins gave them the thumbs up as they ducked into the greenhouse for their own Herbology lesson. Harry, Hermione and Neville couldn't shake their smiles all the way down to Hagrid's hut, despite the bitter cold.

When they arrived at Hagrid's cabin, however, they found an elderly witch with closely cropped grey hair and a very prominent chin standing before his front door.

"Hurry up; now, the bell rang five minutes ago," she barked at them as they struggled toward her through the snow.

"Who's she," Harry whispered to Hermione as the other Gryffindors fathered around.

Weasley cut in, "Where's Hagrid?"

"My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank," she said briskly. "I am your temporary Care of Magical Creatures teacher."

"Ma'am, where's Professor Hagrid?" Harry repeated loudly.

"He is indisposed," said Professor Grubbly-Plank shortly.

Soft and unpleasant laughter reached Harry's ears. He turned; Draco Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins were joining the class. All of them looked gleeful, and none of them looked surprised to see Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"This way, please," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, and she strode off around the paddock where the Beauxbatons horses were. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed her, looking back over their shoulders at Hagrid's cabin. All the curtains were closed. Was Hagrid in there, alone and ill?

"What's wrong with Hagrid? Is he okay?" Harry pressed, hurrying to catch up with Professor Grubbly-Plank, he thought he knew what it was about, but wanted to check on his friend.

"Never you mind," she dismissed, as though she thought he was nosy. "He's my friend! Of course, I mind," said Harry hotly, "is he okay?"

Professor Grubbly-Plank acted as though she couldn't hear him. She led them past the paddock where the huge Beauxbatons horses were standing, huddled against the cold, and toward a tree on the edge of the forest, where a large and beautiful unicorn was tethered. She was not the same unicorn Harry had met in the forest, and Harry felt an odd twisting pain in his chest seeing it tied up like that.

Many of the girls Ooooohed and Aaaahed at the sight of the unicorn.

"Oh, it's so beautiful!" whispered Brown. "How did she get it? They're supposed to be really hard to catch!"

The unicorn was so brightly white she made the snow all around look grey. She was pawing the ground nervously with her golden hooves and throwing back her horned head.

"Boys keep back!" barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, throwing out an arm and would have caught Harry hard in the chest if he hadn't jumped back. He didn't think he liked this Grubbly-plank much.

"They prefer the woman's touch, unicorns. Girls to the front, and approach with care, come on, easy does it..."

She and the girls walked slowly forward toward the unicorn, leaving the boys standing near the paddock fence, watching. Harry and Neville shuffled closer, despite his dislike of the women, he did want to know what she said about the unicorns. But the moment Professor Grubbly-Plank was out of earshot Malfoy put his hand inside the pocket of his robes and pulled out a folded page of newsprint and shoved it in Harry's face.

"There you go, Potty," he said. "Your big friend's done for."

He smirked and waved the paper in front of Harry's face. It was snatched by Weasley who unfolded it, and read it, with Finnigan and Thomas looking over his shoulder. Crabbe was snorting with suppressed laughter looking very pleased while Goyle was looking very uncomfortable.

"I'm aware of the article. But are you as stupid as you look?" Harry said turning to Crabbe, "I mean I wondered before, but assumed it was just a front, being Slytherin an all, appearances can be deceiving. But now I'm really starting to question your ability to even do that much if the rubbish you sprouted to the profit is anything to go by, Flobberworm's haven't even got teeth!"

Crabbe suddenly looked a lot less pleased with himself and looked about to launch himself at Harry, if not for the discrete sticking charm Harry had placed on his shoes.

"I think this should put an end to the oaf's teaching career," said Malfoy, his eyes glinting. "Half-giant... None of the Mummies and Daddies are going to like this at all... They'll be worried he'll eat their kids, ha, ha..."

Professor Grubbly-Planks voice cut though Malfoy laughter, "Are you paying attention over there?"

Harry clenched his jaw and moved a little closer with Neville leaving Malfoy to argue with Weasley. Goyle also shifted away from Malfoy and a little closer to the other Slytherins as if he too were actually wanting to get on with the glass and not petty squabbles and wasn't that interesting Harry thought.

As much as he hated to admit it, Harry thought when the lesson had ended, that it was a good lesson. Highly informative.

Instead of going up to the Castle for lunch, Harry spent another 10 minutes knocking on Hagrid's door. Only Fang's booming barks answered.

"Hagrid, it's us!" Harry shouted, pounding on the door again. "Open up! Are you okay?"

Hagrid didn't answer. They could hear Fang scratching at the door, whining, but it didn't open. They hammered on it for ten more minutes; Hermione even went and tapped on one of the windows, but there was no response.

"What's he avoiding us for?" Hermione said when they had finally given up and were walking back to the school. "He surely doesn't think we'd care about him being half-giant?"

But it seemed that Hagrid did care. They didn't see a sign of him all week. He didn't appear at the staff table at mealtimes, they didn't see him going about his gamekeeper duties on the grounds, and Professor Grubbly-Plank continued to take the Care of Magical Creatures classes. Malfoy was gloating every time he caught sight of Harry.

Unfortunately, despite being careful to avoid Filch and Professor McGonagall all day, Filch caught up to him in divination. The cantankerous old man, ambushed him coming down the ladder from divination before harry could duck into a snake passage.

The caretaker was snarling and fuming, practically spitting with rage as he grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him across the Castle practically pulling him down the stairs all the way to the hospital wing for his detentions.

Harry didn't even think of fighting the bruisingly strong vice-like grip Filtch had on his upper arm, as he dragged Harry along. Harry tried to get his feet under him, but the angle was awkward, and he tripped more than once. Filch was snarling about whipping and thumbscrews; Harry didn't fight him. He didn't want to risk angering the man enough to actually follow through with his threats.

And the man was reminding him all together way too much of his uncle before he belted Harry raw.

Detention in the hospital wing was scrubbing out bedpans, by hand. It was disgusting, and worse yet, Filtch stood behind him the whole time muttering under his breath about pain and hard work, and old school punishments.

The whole thing made Harry one seething ball of anxiety. He'd always hated and feared the man, ever since he'd first met him in first year. The unpleasant man reminded him all too much of his uncle.

When he was finally finished with all the bedpans, Harry was looking forward to escaping the man's presence. That and a long hot shower and a good meal.

Unfortunately, as soon as he'd finished instead of being allowed to go to dinner, Filch dragged him straight up to the trophy room, still muttering about torture and whipping Harry until he bled.

"Not getting no dinner, boy, for all the trouble you've caused me, you little snot," the man weeded, "just you wait until I finally get permissions to start hanging you little blighters up by your toenails in the dungeons..." he muttered, "I'll whip your sorry hide raw."

Harry couldn't hold back a flinch this time, his nerves drug out after several hours of having the man standing behind him muttering threats.

He tried to ignore how much the man reminded him of his uncle and hurried to start cleaning and polishing the trophies. Goddess, he hoped the man couldn't hear how much his stomach was rumbling! He was so hungry; he'd gotten used to regular meals. He wished he could sneak something from his bag, but he didn't want to risk the man's attention.

By the time Harry was finished, he was bone-weary and barely had enough time to get y up to Moaning Myrtles in time to use the Time Tuner as scheduled. Hermione was waiting for him, with winky, who was holding two huge sandwiches. Harry practically wolfed them down, as Hermione said, "heard you got caught and got dragged to detention. You weren't there this whole time were you?"

"Mmhumf" Harry nodded swallowing a large mouthful of sandwich and taking another huge bite.

He shivered, then said between bites "didn't even get a break for tea... did hospital bedpans... then the trophy room... The ass kept talking about wanting to whip me the whole time... He's as bad as my uncle." Harry finished with a shiver starting on the second sandwich.

"Ouch," Hermione said, leaning on the sinks next to him and waiting for him to finish eating before they went down into the Chamber.

"What are you going to do now?" She asked.

"Go to them," Harry said before taking another bite and chewing and swallowing quickly.

"I don't want too; I didn't earn them. But if he's going to ambush me after class and drag me there, and having me work all afternoon and evening with no dinner..." He took another bite, chewed and swallowed before adding, "so basically treat me like the Dursley's. I don't have much choice. I can't hide forever; I can't change their minds. Theirs no-one I can appeal to. The board of governors are either in Dumbledore or Malfoy's pocket. There is nothing I can do except go and play along. If I keep arguing I risk Filch losing his shit and really ripping me a new one. Or Dumbledore is potioning me. Dobby already warned me that the elves are on orders from Dumbledore to try and dose me with a loyalty potion top-up and that they've been banishing the potions but making a show of obeying."

Hermione sighed heavily, "this is so unfair."

He nodded, "we'll have to adjust the time table to fit in extra homework, I won't have as much time if I'm in detention. Hopefully, if I show up this time after tea, they'll just make me work till curfew, not all afternoon."

"Well if it makes you feel any better," Hermione said, "I heard that all the showers in the Gryffindor tower have been refusing to pump out anything but icy water."

"Good." He said with a savage sense of satisfaction.

"And both McGonagall and Dumbledore can't fix it. They have no idea why they're all cold. Only the first years have been spared. They get tepid showers, not icy ones."

Harry grinned, and she added "and whenever the older students try other showers in the school. They go cold too. McGonagall has worked out it's nothing wrong with the showers, and it must be something about the students themselves that are affecting it."

Hermione grinned wickedly, "Hogwarts doesn't seem too pleased with how the Gryffindors have treated her heir."

They dissolved into snickers, and she said, "to make matters even better, apparently, at dinner, a dung bomb went off in Dumbledore's pocket."

Harry laughed so hard he nearly choked on the last of his sandwich.


	63. Chapter 63 Now What?

ewww, take two...

Tuesday morning dawned bright and brisk. And Harry woke feeling no more worse for wear after squeezing an extra day into the night before.

Despite his exhaustion, under the Time-Turner they had worked out a new study plan around his detentions, caught up on homework, and managed to get started on their new WEA subjects, interspersed with several meals and sleep.

He trudged down to Hagrid's cabin bright and early, sipping another one of Winky's delicious smoothies. When there was no answer from the cabin, Harry went through Hagrid's Tuesday morning rounds in the forest before meeting Hermione for their morning run. They discussed their stint with the time-turner in great detail while running around the lake. It was decided that they had a good balance of extra time for sleep, eating, and a bit of relaxation, as well as their vigorous study schedule. It would be challenging but should be sustainable.

They knocked on Hagrid's door again before they went up to the kitchens for breakfast but got no response.

They planned to ask Professor McGonagall about the resorting before class that same morning. They'd even left History a little early to have time for it. But McGonagall wasn't there, which was odd, for the normal punctual woman. So the three of them sat down in Harry's normal place at the back, and Harry pulled out his mum's transfiguration notes. They were funny and much more entertaining than McGonagall's lectures. And easer to follow.

He was startled out of his reading on cross-species transfiguration when he sensed someone standing over his desk.

He glanced up, his hand on his wand... only to see the Professor, who was late. And staring at him.

She had a puzzled expression on her face.

"Professor?" He asked tentatively, hoping she wasn't about to lecture him again.

"I didn't know you liked to read Potter? I thought you hated it," she said bluntly, causing some of the other nearby Gryffindors to snicker.

Harry forced back a scowl, "What gave you that idea?" He said not able to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"I hated the migraine it gave me, not reading itself." He continued, "now I can actually see, and it's not so excruciating to do so, I love it. I've always liked books Professor, just not Migraines. It's a wonder what getting glasses that actually fit my prescription can do." He said so scathingly that she gaped at him like a fish.

He took perverse pleasure in her dumbfounded look of discomfort.

Hermione, Harry and Neville lingered after class, Harry hovering at the back, hoping that if the others asked, she wouldn't automatically say no. He really didn't want to have another argument about his detentions.

Before any of them could even open their mouths, she said, "Unless it's about the class or an apology for your appalling behaviour Potter, I haven't time. I expect you to turn up to every one of your detentions from now on, and you will present yourself to Mr Filches office, after dinner. No arguments unless you want to be in detention for the rest of the term. Is that understood?"

"Professor, Harry didn't break any rules-" Hermione started.

Professor McGonagall rounded on her with the same pinched disapproving look she'd been directing at Harry. Hermione quailed, as the Professor said, "Miss Granger, I am disappointed in you."

"But Professor-"

"I see Mr Potter has been a bad influence on you. Such a pity I did have such high hopes for you," she shook her head disappointedly as if all her hopes had been crushed.

Hermione flinched. Only to then straighten her spine, "perhaps it is not us that is the bad influence _Professor,_" she replied coldly, her voice clearly conveyed her disdain.

Professor McGonagall perched her lips and said, "Ms Granger! Detention! You can join me, Potter tonight. And Potter, make sure you turn up this time! Don't think you can get away with skiving off or Mr Filch will be collecting you from classes personally so you can't run off."

Harry stared at her, coldly, "I broke no school rules. I should not have to do detentions I didn't earn."

"You left without permission when I specifically said, and the headmaster agreed that you were needed at school. You will do as your told Potter," she said coldly, "I've never been so disappointed in one of my Gryffindors as I am you at the moment, Potter."

That was the last straw for Harry, "and I you, ma'am," he snapped icily, turning on his heel and stalking out the door.

He was stopped, however, when she said, "shame on you Potter, I have often questioned the headmaster's decision to allow you to run wild and break so many school rules. I always supported him in his decisions in regards to you and dismissed Severus's claims that you needed such firm discipline. But I'm starting to see how right Severus was. Just because I am finally doing something about your wild behaviour, Potter, does not give you leave to be so discourteous. Now dismissed, before I give you even more detention."

Harry clenched his jaw so hard he thought it would crack and stalked out, wanting to break something. Hermione and Neville ran after him, their faces pinched and angry.

Before Hermione could start talking, Harry cut her off, he didn't want to talk about it, "We'll never get it from her. She didn't give me the time of day, we'll never manage to get the third approval for re-sorting."

Hermione looked ready to cry despite her fury, and Neville looked grey.

"I think you might be right," Hermione looked back at the transfiguration classroom, "I don't think she'll change her mind. We're screwed."

"I'm sorry guys," Harry said, "at least you lot have a week left to get back into Gryffindor before it's made permanent for you."

"But," Neville spluttered, but Harry cut him off.

"Go talk to the others. Discuss it. I won't hold it against you if you go back. It's the smart choice. Don't give up your future because of me. This is big." Harry said, "it shouldn't be. It's a stupid rule and a stupid archaic punishment that's bitten us on the ass. It's not fair, but that's the way it is at the moment. Don't let it fuck things up for you too, just because it blindsided me."

"Harry..." Hermione said but trailed off, turning down a different secret passageway presumable to the library, looking suspiciously like she had started to cry.

Filius was startled from his marking by a timid knock on his door. He glanced up, saw that it was lunchtime and frowned.

"Come in," he called curiously.

Ms Granger shuffled in. She was alone for the first time in a while, looking miserable and defeated. Her face was tear-streaked, and she looked as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, hunched in as if trying to make her self small and unobtrusive.

"Ms Granger?!" He squeezed in consern, conjuring her a handkerchief and floating it over to her.

It preceded to try and wipe her eyes, she took it, tried to smile in amusement at it, but a sob came out instead.

"I'm in desperate need of some advice, sir, and I can't ask Professor McGonagall. Might I prevail upon your time for a moment?"

"Of course, child," he said gently, flicking his wand to draw out a chair for her, "would you like some tea?"

But she didn't sit, just shook her head and said, "I shant take that much of your time, but sir, I have a horrible choice to make," more tears fell down her cheeks, and she hiccuped with the force of them.

She must have been crying quite hard for some time he thought worriedly, "please child, it's no trouble, sit down and tell me what's wrong."

"I have a horrible choice to make sir. Do I risk everything? Everything I've worked so hard for and dreamt of? And give it up because it's the right thing to do? Do I face my Bogart?

Or do I turn my back on my friend for books and cleverness in fear of said Bogart, when I know that there are more important things like friendship and loyalty."

Another sob escaped, and she balled up her fists, and looked Filius directly for the first time, her eyes hard and pained, tears still coursing down her cheeks, "sir do I face my bogart or abandon my friend?"

He was about to say something, about to reassure her that they had it all sorted, that it wasn't as dire as she thought, but she barrelled on, "and the worst thing is, sir, it's not a choice really, it never was."

Another sob escaped her, then another, but she was already dashing from the room before he could stopper her. Her hands were pressed to mouth as if in an effort to contain her grief.

It left Filius feeling like he'd been gutted. He hurried after her, but it was as if she had vanished into thin air. There was no sign of her in the corridor. She really had gotten much too good at learning how to disappear from Mr Potter. They never should have had to learnt to disappear that well.

_Oh dear._

_I_t was far worse than they'd thought. Those children have no-one, he realised, and Minerva was worse than they thought. They had to fix this. He turned to contact Severus and Pomona.

The rest of Tuesday passed quickly, Hermione was quiet, red eyed, worried. Harry couldn't help her or fix it, but he did stay firmly at her side, comforting her as best he could. As she had done for him.

He was relieved when Filch did not turn up in Herbology. Though a house-elf popped in as he was leaving class and told him, rather apologetically, that he would be escorted to Filch's office after dinner for his detention.

"And please sir," the elf said, twisting his fingers painfully, "please don't make Tweek make you. Tweek has been ordered to make you go if you is not wanting to!" The elf said sounding high pitched and anxious, "please don't make Tweek!"

Harry sighed bitting back his fury at anyone for putting the elf in that position.

"Don't worry Tweek, I won't do that to you. I'll be there on time, to leave for my detention. I won't make it difficult for you. And don't hurt yourself, please, it's not your fault."

Tweek did indeed escort Harry, and a silent Hermione from the kitchens to filch's office after dinner. Harry went along meekly, not wanting the elf to be punished, too tired to fight, too anxious of Filch and Dumbledore to argue. In this case, it was smarter to wait it out. He knew when he was outnumbered.

He'd come up with something.

Harry and Hermione were set scrubbing the floor in an unused part of the castle, with Filch hoovering, for hours that evening. They dared not talk.

It was hard, dirty work but it turned out to be excellent occlumency practice, despite his head being so full. After his scare with Dumbledore, he realised he really had to improve fast and had taken to practising occluding whenever he could.

If he could work on it enough that he could occlude all the time, that would be ideal. Especially if he got good at it enough that he could fool people into thinking he wasn't occluding. Which was really what he needed to be able to do with Dumbledore.

The only reason he decided to go to the detentions after that was that he could use them to practice his occlumency. Cleaning was a mindless enough task that he could keep reinforcing his shield, sorting his memories. Especially when Dobby said he'd watch over harry, while he worked so Filch couldn't hurt him. Knowing Dobby was at his back, even if the little elf was invisible, let Harry focus on his tasks, and not jump every time filch so much as breathed loudly.

That and he couldn't bear the idea of the house-elves being ordered to make him to go, when they clearly hated the idea. He couldn't bear the thought of making them chose between their loyalty to him, their castles heir, and their masters orders.

It was times like this when he thought having people that cared for him, that were loyal to him, was a curse. It clearly didn't do them any good.

Tuesday night passed with an extra day studying hard, keeping busy, while under the time-turner, and Harry was received that for once, he slept nightmare free.

Wednesday dawned bright and early, the lake was slushy, partially defrosted ice when Harry went for a swim and was curious to see Victor Krum in it too. He must have solved the egg. He was getting out to do his round for Hagrid when he saw a heavily rugged up Delacour walking around the edge of the lake looking at it dubiously, Madame Maxine at her side. So she had worked out the egg too.

Winky popped into the dungeon where Harry was eating lunch poring over an ancient studies textbook, startling the life out of him.

"Winky has found it, sir!" She squeaked.

"Found it?" He asked dumbly, trying to remember what he'd asked her to find.

"The mail, sir! you is asking Winky to find the mail that Whiskers stole from you! I is finding it!" She said excitedly.

Harry blinked, then grinned, "brilliant, well done! Where was it?"

"Winky be showing you, sir," she said taking his hand and leading him back up to the entrance hall, down past the kitchens, then down a narrow set of spiral stairs that Harry thought had been built with elves in mind, not humans.

At the bottom was what looked like a vast cellar. Winky led him past rows of boxes and barrels to a small room at the back. It was dark when she led him in, but a click of her fingers lit touches to show...

Hundreds and Hundreds of letters.

"The fuck...?" Harry said softly, "who the hell is writing to me this much!"

Winky twisted her eats slightly, causing Harry to frown at her. She stopped the tugging and said instead, "Winky is not thinking they is writing to _you,_ sir," she said hesitantly, "Winky is thinking they is writing to the Boy-who-lived, sir!"

He started at the elf, then beamed at her. Didn't that say a lot about just how well she knew him?

"Your completely right Winky. Now I just have to figure out what to do with it all."

She seemed pleased at this and there was a pop behind him, he spun around his wand out, only to see an older elf.

The elf had an older creaky sounding voice but said, "Hokey could be sorting them for you, Hokey used to work for an old house. Hokey knows the ways wizards write letters and such."

"Isn't that a lot of work for one elf?" Harry asked, not unkindly.

"There are others, sir," Hokey said, clicking her fingers and conjuring a tiny elf-sized chair to sit on.

"Elflings not ready for main kitchen work. Letter sorting is good." The elf said, waving her hands and sending some letters flying towards her.

"If you're sure you don't mind, I would be thrilled. If you can sort them into categories, I can draft stock replies to send out. Just let Dobby or Winky know what is needed. I'll have to draft an apology letter to go in the paper over the summer. I'm surprised I haven't got any mail yet with all the controversy going on."

Hokey batted her hand dismissively at him as if he was telling her obvious things that she already knew.

"Hokey will see it done young heir. Hokey is knowing how it works, sir," The elf said shooing Harry out of the room with a wave of her hand a soft nudge of magic, "you is going now, and leaving Hokey to her work."

Unfortunately, the rest of the day did not improve, Hagrid was still not in Care of Magical Creatures, though he did manage to catch his Slytherins and move their study group to directly after classes, instead of after dinner when he had detention.

"Bad luck Potter," Parkinson said when he'd told her about the detentions, "that's really rotten."

Harry met the Slytherins down in the dungeons. When they'd heard about all the letters, they helped Harry draft up a number of stock replies they thought would be useful and that Hokey had requested via Dobby.

Harry just had to name and sign then, as well including the apology and explanation letter for his previous lack of response. He'd tack that onto the stock reply's and publish the main apology in the Quibbler in the next edition. A copy in the prophet could wait until the summer. Hopefully that would help public opinion of him and stop people being so quick to villains him.

He didn't hold out much hope but at least he'd made the effort.

They discussed a bigger study group and OWLs, and though they didn't discuss the time tuner, he learnt that a few had one for summer use for extra subjects or for extra subjects. They agreed to form a big study group after class a few days a week, and Harry decided he would sleep on the matter of telling them about his time turner.

Wednesday night passed as Tuesday had. Detention, in which he practised occlumency, a quick nap in his cupboard, before making an offering to his Goddess and to magic, before using the time-turner with Hermione, to go back a day and study for his extra classes and to catch up on all the homework he couldn't do because of detention.

It was a bit confusing really, and Harry had taken to obsessively scheduling everything to keep track of everything. That and using a Tempus and date charm.

A lot.

Thursday morning was again, running then doing rounds in the forest before breakfast and was possibly the best thing that happened that day.

Riptooth had replied to his potions inquiry, "again, not before Feb 2nd. Mandrake leaf can be used like that while on your other potions, but it is not advisable to use it while on the language potions your planning to use. It can cause server head pain."

Harry sighed, there went that idea. He'd have to sit on it for a bit longer, at least until the second task was over.

But this time, Harry got his first piece of fan mail. It was not as exciting as Weasley would have expected. It was from an 80-year-old woman in Ireland having heard about his first task in the tournament. She was rather pleased he'd used his brain for it instead of being eaten but had told him off for using 'such a dark langue,' and shame on him.

Harry passed it around to his friends, and they had a good laugh before he addressed a plight stock response and sent it back via the Gringotts box.

Transfiguration that morning was... interesting. Everyone was babbling about something Peeves did at breakfast. Harry was privately, viciously pleased to note that Dumbledore lemon drops had been stolen and that his orange robes that morning had been covered in blue slime. So had the Gryffindors, who all ended up late to class.

Harry hadn't asked Peeves to give the Gryffindors some payback too, but from the glee he could feel from Hogwarts, he thought she may have. It seemed that the castle didn't like how the red house had treated her heir, one of her own.

Peeves was part of the castle and seemed more than happy to be the vessel of her wrath. He seemed to take much delight in reining his mischief down on the Gryffindors, McGonagall and the headmaster, dropping Dungbombs on them, and water bombs and juggling burning torches and sharpened axes over their heads tauntingly as they shrieked.

It was rather nice, Harry thought, to have the castle on his side. Especially when the stairs always seemed to shift at the wrong moment for the Gryffindors, and the headmaster, and portrait guardians seemed to often be out of their frames when they were running late.

In transfiguration Professor McGonagall also ignored all of the ex-Gryffindors up until she was hanging back the homework as the class was leaving. She saved Harry's for last.

"Your handwriting has finally improved Potter, about time too." She said, handing his essay back. He wondered what she was playing at, it almost sounded like she was trying to praise him, yet it was hidden in an insult. Maybe she had taken a leaf out of Professor Snape's book. That did not bode well.

"yes ma'am, I got my hands fixed over the break," Harry said bluntly, not bothering to lie to the woman. She never believed him anyway, so what did it matter if he told the truth?

"Your hands? What was wrong with them?" she asked, surprised.

"They were broken." He said with an uncaring shrug, "I couldn't hold a quill or write properly," he said simply not wanting to explain the mess of badly healed bones and tendons and things that had been his hands. Or to explain the only reason he'd been able to use his hands had been magic and will alone.

"oh... well, I'm glad they're mended now. Really, Potter, you should have gone to Madam Pomfrey if you'd broken them."

"I didn't break them, ma'am, Dudley did. I was six, and he didn't like that my handwriting was neater than his, so he broke them so that it wouldn't be. They've always been that way really so I didn't know any better until now. Can I go to lunch now, ma'am? I have homework I need to finish before _detention_ tonight." He said pointedly, fixing his cold gaze on her.

She spluttered, but when nothing came out. He turned and left, viciously pleased at the stab he'd taken at her. Served her right for never listening when he begged not to go back. And it was true, he only had an hour to get his homework done, before detention tonight. Especially if he wanted to tutor the younger Slytherins, the snakelings as he'd started calling them.

He ate dinner in the kitchens with the twins, Neville and Hermione.

"Tomorrow it's permanent," Harry said, picking at his stew half-heartedly and looking at Hermione worriedly.

"Yes, it is," she said her voice calm her eyes clear. Clearer than they had been since their failed attempt to talk to McGonagall.

"But your bogart, you hate failure, any kind of black record, you don't even know what job you want after school, this could hamper th-" Harry started only to be cut off.

"Yes," she said matter of factly, "the fact this can affect everything for along time to come is terrifying, but there are more important things than books and cleverness."

"Friendship and bravery," Harry finished for her.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "gosh, that feels like years ago. But I said it then, and I'll say it again, I'm with you until the end Hadrian Lilyson," her declaration was made all the more powerful by the use of his preferred name.

He could trust her, he realised, with a sudden achingly sharp clarity. He'd never truly fully trusted anyone before that moment. And the force of the relation hit him like a punch to the gut. He lunged at her, his eyes burning and hugged her tightly, too overwhelmed and surprised to be able to say anything.

She had faced her Bogart for him, fought it and won for him. Would risk her grades here for him. He could hardly believe that anyone would do that for him. But if anyone would, of course, it would be his loyal bookworm friend.

Harry had always considered true trust to be knowing someone had your back no matter what and would walk through fire with you. Someone who would be there to defend you when you could not defend yourself, no matter what. Trust was knowing that if the whole world was against you, they would still have your back against all of them. No matter what.

True trust had always been impossible, unattainable. No one had ever been that trustworthy before. No-one had ever had his back no matter what before.

Until now.

At that moment, he knew that he could trust Hermione. Truly. Without a shadow of a doubt. She would be there, through thick and thin, no matter what. If she had stood at his side this whole time, going through all of this to stay at his side, she always would.

And he shook with the force of that realisation. He could trust her. Her and the twins and Neville who were walking through hell _with_ him. Before he'd had no one. Now he had four other people he could trust irrevocably. Four people that were _his_.

He jumped as someone hugged him from behind, and soon all five of them were standing in a tight circle in the middle of the kitchens, clinging to each other. Elated and terrified all at once. Harry felt strangely like crying.

These were _his_ people, who would be at his side no matter what and he would do _anything_ to keep them safe and happy.

It may be unfair, the un-housing. It may make their life harder at Hogwarts, with too many detentions they didn't earn. It may make their future uncertain with such a taboo next to their name. But they were set on their course, and it was the right thing to do. And he was not alone now.

Never alone, he thought, as he felt Hermione rest her cheek on his head, and he wrapped an arm around her tightly, pulling her closer. It was as much for his comfort as her own.

"Besides," said Fred cheerily, "it's just for this year, the detentions and all,"

"We have two teachers agreeing to a re-sort" added George

"So we'll still be re-sorted next year, and be back to normal in that sense." Added Fred.

"So without the third head of house supporting us, we'll just need to find careers where the black mark of an un-housing doesn't matter," said Hermione her jaw set stubbornly.

"So really we need to ace every single OWL," Harry said with a wicked smile.

"Exactly," she said, "we'll show them all."

Detention passed in a blur of bleach and scrubbing, and he was making good progress in occlumency. In their extra day under the time turner, Harry caught up on some lost sleep and spent the day furiously working through his mum's notes and assignments for etiquette and culture with Hermione. The OWLs they were taking this summer, were the ones they were most prepared for having been taking lessons with Bill and the Slytherins. But they still had to work furiously to catch up. Especially as Harry hadn't started his language potions for yet.

The following morning, after Harry had done Hagrid's round, with Hermione this time, instead of their run, they had potions later that day. It was the first practical brewing class Harry would have since his magic was unbound and he was more than a little nervous about it.

Severus scrutinised Potter, as he slipped into class just as the bell rang. Just in the nick of time. As always. Potter often moved together with Longbottom and Granger, rarely seen without them, and never seen outside of classes, always the last one in and the first one out of the classes themselves. Never talking to his classmates. Rarely seen murmuring to his friends in class, and never really saying a word to the teachers or his peers unless asked. Severus rarely saw him now unless the boy was in class. And Filius had admitted the same thing. Many of the teachers had when he had subtly enquired.

The child was a ghost.

Severus frowned slightly, the boy was looking a bit thinner than he had before the break, but healthier somehow... He seemed to have replaced those ratty sorry excuse for shoes with... women's combat boots? They were worn and had a slight heel making him seem slightly less like a tiny first year.

Actually, they looked familiar. Were they Lily's? He squinted at them. They were Lily's boots! He recognised some of the scuff marks and the misshapen runes carved into the heals where they had tried to make them soundless. They'd succeeded in doing so a few sets of shoes later. He wondered what had happened to those.

He wondered if the boy had finally managed to replace those rags Severus had caught him wearing once? If he hadn't that would explain why Severus had never really seen him in anything except his school robes. Unlike most students the boy were his school robes even on weekends and out of class.

The boy's hair was longer too now, and fell neatly down his back, instead of that goddess awful rats nest it used to be. Though it was in a messy knot at the moment, sensible for brewing, he thought with mild surprise. Then kicked himself for the sharp judgment. The child wasn't stupid, as he'd always assumed, as the child used to pretend to be.

Severus sighed, and with the different hair and new glasses, the boy now looked very little like his father at all. His eyes were still _so_ Lily's though, but he looked like just an ordinary child now, not a reincarnation of Severus's abuser. He looked more like his dead friend and sister.

And it made the guilt eating at Severus all the stronger.

_Hekate help me_, he thought, he had to make things right.

Severus had watched Harry flinch around all week look up at him wearily when he caught sight of Severus. The boy's eyes trailing him, were always nervous, weary. He tried to hide it and was good at it too, but Severus was a spy.

He knew he had to apologise properly to the boy to fix this. He hated apologising! Hated any kind of emotional vulnerability. For a long time, all Severus had had was his pride and now he had to put it aside! For the son of his enemy!

There was a still a part of him, (admittedly small one now) that argued that the brat was still Potter's spawn (even if he was Lily's too; the son of his sister, his friend, his everything) He was loathed to put his pride aside for the boy.

And part of him was irritated that even after beginning to try to help, to reach out, the boy was still so... cowed. But Severus knew what it was like to trust no-one.

How could he have let Lily's child get to that point?

He had to fix this before the kid broke in half. Goddess, this was Lily's child almost cowering from him, but trying so desperately to hide it. How could Severus have done that to the boy?

It was also just as well that they had had the theory class on Tuesday, harry thought, as he tried to brew his potion. It was also just as well that he had both his mother's and Sev's notes on top of his own. He knew exactly what to do. The problem was; however, it felt different.

Now he could feel it, his magic, suddenly all these nuances of what Professor Snape had said about potions made sense.

Potions was not an equation. Following the instructions wasn't enough. It was an art. You could follow the instructions and get a mostly decent potion, he was coming to realise, but it would never be as good, or as strong as if you'd listened, to the flow of magic, and the ingredients and the potions itself. It truly was an art.

All the notes about feeling and timing in his mum's hand (and Sev's hand) now made sense, but when was the right time? How much magic was too much?

The ingredients _felt_ different. They felt magical in a way they hadn't before. As if they were brimming with potential and waiting for the magic to awaken them, soaking his magic up like a sponge. He'd read the passages in his mother's book on feeling magic and feeding the ingredients his magic, but none of it told him _how much_ was enough, and how much was _too much_.

How did he know?

And it was hard to hear what the different ingredients were telling him when there was so much magic around him. The room was so noisy! And not in the literal auditory sense either, there was just too much magic to hear.

Then there was the stirring. His magic seemed to flow down different stirring rods differently. While the text mostly said what to use, it didn't always. And while he'd had no problem with any of this before, not really, now he could feel it did make a difference, it seemed a million times more complicated, and a million times more prone to blowing up. How did he know which was right? There were so many more variables and options now. So many more colours!

He wasn't even halfway through his brew when it went wrong.

The potion had been bubbling in a discontented way since he'd added the first ingredient and never quite seemed to settle down. He could sense something was up but was too new to be able to feel it to know how to fix it or what was even wrong. He could feel the magic seething, and the potion was bubbling and hissing sinisterly.

It was going to explode, he thought suddenly, as he finished adding the slug brains. He dived for the Bi-Carb and dumping some on it, while simultaneously slamming his hand down rune on his brewing mat activating a containment ward, just before it blew up.

The shield in the mat contained the explosion, it even contained the noise. But the ward flashed bright orange, vibrating as the potion exploded within it, making a huge mess under the ward. He sensed though that it would have been a lot worse had he not tossed Bi-Carb on it.

_Shite!_

He stared at it. He'd followed the instructions. Prepared the ingredients right, followed the recipe...

What the hell had he fucked up? And what did he do with the mess shielded in the containment ward?

"Potter!" Professor Snape rounded on Harry and Harry cringed back unable to stop himself, remembering just how furious the man had been last time he'd upset him. He'd been doing so well at staying out of the man's way too! It took everything he had not to raise his hands to protect his head.

But Professor Snape said nothing for a long moment, surveying Harry's desk before simply jabbing his wand at a few runes on the matt outside the containment ward.

Of course, the man would know what runes to press, Harry sighed, he'd worked with his mother for ages. Of course, he'd recognise the ward Harry was using. The mess vanished, leaving the mat no worse for wear. And to Harry's surprise, his cauldron, was okay as well if caked in black sticky sludge.

Harry looked up at the man hesitantly, careful not to meet his eyes. Professor Snape's expression was unreadable, but he just spat out, "detention!"

Harry, frustrated beyond belief now, not understanding what he'd screwed up, snapped back, "you'll have to get in line, Professor. I'm ready in detention with Filch every night until the second task. Yours will have to wait until then." He then snapped his mouth shut, horrified at his own audacity as his classmates snickered.

He couldn't believe he'd said that out loud! He tried not to cringed as he waited for the inevitable explosion.

But it didn't come. He glanced up and thought he saw a look of horror and surprise flick across the man's face but dismissed it. What would Professor Snape care!?

"Clean up your mess," Severus spat out, sounding harsher than he had really meant.

But then he couldn't afford to sound as if he felt anything but hate for the 'boy-who-lived'. Not with Malfoys spawn in the room willing to answer all his father's questions, and relay every bit of gossip, desperate to please his father, for his attention. Stupid brat. He'd never win his fathers approval, Severus knew that all too well. Nothing pleased _that_ man. Those kinds of men could never be pleased.

Severus looked down at Potter. Potter flinched and seemed to shrink in on himself even more than usual. Severus frowned, but the boy just murmured, "yes, sir."

Just how had he managed _that_ many detentions? He turned his back on the boy and proceeded to ignore him. It was the best he could do at the moment.

Harry sighed nervously as Severus stalked away but he noted that the boy did straighten his spine as he packed up his station.

When the class had left Severus allowed himself to let out a gusty sigh, "Hells teeth," he swore then conjured his Patronus.

"Go to Filius Flitwick and when he is alone, tell him I need a word. It's about Potter and all his bloody detentions."

END NOTES

Kudos if you recognise the name Hokey. Yes it is who you think it is, no it's not overly significant.

Kudos too if you recognise what Harry was really asking about when he asked Riptooth about the mandrake leaf. If your not sure, it will come up again way down the track, don't worry.

Note on sev and lily. They were really close. Soul mates in a platonic sense, they were family, not at all romantically involved. But they were everything to each other, (yes that can be a thing) and there was none else more important in their lives. I know its odd, normally the most important person in someone's life is their romantic/sexual partner. But not this one, in this case its their best friend/sibling. There is something sacred and special about friendship/sibling bonds (whether blood or not) and I think they can be every bit as important and special as romantic/sexual love. If you don't agree suck it.

Potion: Now Harrys magic is unbound there's a lot more of it in play (or accessible) with both helps his potions loads but also makes them more volatile and its now way easer to mess up spectacularly. a new dynamic has suddenly been added to a challenging subject. We'll come back to that later


	64. Chapter 64 Break Through

That evening Harry was surprised to be escorted by Filch, not clean another part of the castle but to Professor Snape's classroom.

Harry gulped and felt all the colour drain from his face. Professor Snape directed him, not to the sink to scrub cauldrons like Harry expected, but to a desk. Harry was so nervous by this point that he was trembling.

"You screwed up your potion today more spectacularly than you have all year Potter. Just when I was starting to think you weren't a total dunderhead and may possess even a tiny iota of your mother's talent, you go and screw up even more spectacularly than even Longbottom's usual failures." Professor Snape said arching a brow.

Harry flinched, trying to figure out what the man was actually saying. His tone was harsh, but the man's magic was stiller than it normally was when the man normally berated Harry and was truly angry. That and the man didn't feel angry, just unhappy, irritable and... confused?

That made no sense.

And some of that had almost sounded like a compliment for a moment there. Harry wondered if Professor Snape was ill.

In an uncharacteristic display of weakness, Professor Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath and said in a voice devoid of its usual bite, "brew the potion again."

Harry frowned but scrambled to get to work, not wanting to upset the man further. He was glad he'd brought his bag with him. He wasn't going to question the Professor's uncharacteristically charitable mood. He set up his mat and his timers and took out his notes on the recipe in his mum's book, and started preparing ingredients.

Again he could feel the magic of the ingredients; sleeping, partially dormant, but not quite. He could feel the ingredients calling to his magic, pulling like a sponge, and he wasn't sure what to do with it. Last time he'd tried to stop it. To stop the ingredients and the potion pulling at his magic. But that had not gotten him anywhere.

This time he let them. He let his magic flow down the tools he was using to dice, grind and press the ingredients, and then let it flow down the stirring rod into the caldron, and let the ingredients fall from his fingers into the potion taking his magic with it.

He got two-thirds of the way this time before exploded. Again at least he managed to douse it with Bi-Carb and snap up the containment ward before it blew up spectacularly in his face.

Harry looked up, his breathing shallow, his heart pounding. He was sure his teacher was about to blow up at him. Instead, the man was frowning at him as if he were a particularly interesting potion ingredient. This did not at all reassure Harry...

Harry hurriedly tapped the runes to vanish the mess and the ward. He cleaned up his station, his hands shaking so badly he nearly dropped things a number of times. Especially his cauldron once he started scrubbing it in the sink. All the while, Professor Snape just stared at his place, thinking.

When Harry had finished scrubbing, Professor Snape said, "Potter prepare these."

Harry turned and approached the bench, a jar of horned slugs, snake fangs and porcupine quills. Harry went scarlet, his cheeks tingling. Surely he wasn't so bad as to need to go right back to the very first potion lesson!

Feeling about two inches tall, his eyes stinging with shame and humiliation, he slowly started preparing the boil cure. He crushed the snake fangs into a fine powder, not even needing to open his book, then put them over the heat. When that was done, he added the horned slugs letting the magic flow into the slimy things as they bubbled. Then he took it off the heat and added the quills letting the magic flow from his fingers.

It was the right colour, and the smoke was pink as it should be, but it felt... off.

Shit, he thought his shoulders slumping. Professor Snape didn't say a word, before flicking his wand, bottling the potion and sending the cauldron to the sink to be scrubbed.

Harry stared, but quickly hurried to scrub the cauldron clean.

"It's an adequate brew, boil cure is hard to mess up," Professor Snape said mildly when he was on his way out the door feeling like a failure.

Harry's heart sank even further. Simple and yet he still screwed it up, Professor Snape was right. He was an incompetent moron.

"Return here for your detention tomorrow, and we shall work on the issue," the Professor said.

Harry fled the room and Severus watched him go with a concerned frown.

When Harry rose on Saturday morning, (after an extra day in the chamber using the time turner), he sat for a moment and had to open his planner to check what day it was and that he'd had everything done. He then smiled when he realised his homework was done and all he had to do today, other than lessons with Bill, and detention, was duelling with this friends and working in the forest. Saturday was his off day.

He grinned and hurried to get out of the castle for his run.

This morning the others had joined him, so they ran around the lake. Hermione had persuaded the twins and Neville that being fit would help their duelling stamina and that if Harry had to get up early to do it, the least they could do was support him.

"Plus," she had argued, "we can plan all sorts of chaos and revise all sorts of things on our runs."

They didn't talk about much of anything that morning, the twins and Neville were to bust panting and trying to keep up with Harry and Hermione who were much fitter than the other three who were not used to running.

But by the time they got back to the kitchen, clean but exhausted, they were smiling again.

"That really wakes you up," Neville said, digging into an omelette as Harry drowned his morning potions before digging into his own.

"It does," he said around a mouthful.

"Oh, we forgot to tell you about last night!" Fred said

"Heard someone complaining about it after curfew, and interrogated them," George added.

"You'll never guess what Peeves did," Neville said grinning

Hermione snickered, "it was so gross! You missed it. We heard the elves talking about it when we got to the kitchens for a late dinner."

"Peeves stole Professor Sprouts Dragon dung and chucked it around the great hall!"

"Got the headmaster right in the face!" Said Fred.

"And Ronnikins!" added George, "and managed to splatter McGonagall and the rest of the Gryffindors."

"and a few other students as collateral damage," Hermione added, "interestingly everyone that got hit with it is a known bully, or has been hexing us. Even foreign students. It caused a huge uproar apparently.

Harry frowned slightly, he had only asked peeves to target Dumbledore. So his friends or Hogwarts must have set him on Ron and the Gryffindors. Hogwarts probably pointed him in the direction of the bullies.

He grinned and started to laughed, "thanks," he said.

The twins plastered an innocent look on their face that no one believed for a second, and Harry smothered another laugh, opening the morning's mail.

He had 10 letters that morning, it had been increasing all week, and his friends took great delight in helping him open them and work out which stock reply to send.

Thankfully nothing hideous was in the paper, though there was a tiny article mentioning Dumbledore that made Harry grin.

'Dumbledore trying to make his students Oath-breakers? How far will the great warlock fall?' It went on to mention Dumbledore setting up an interview with Skeeter and a student known to be protected by a journalist contract, despite the fact that it was well known that said student was unable to actually speak to the journalist.

It was kept Harry's name out of it, but he did wonder if anyone would put two and two together to correctly get four? Or would they all, like so many in the wizarding world without an ounce of logic, put two and two together only to get nine? Honestly, that was almost tame for Skeeter.

While they were snickering over the paper, Hokey popped in with a list of replies he needed to send out, along with little notes from Dobby, who had taken it upon himself to act as 'Mr Harry Potter personal elf,' to oversee the letter business, as Hokey was a Hogwarts elf, not Harry's elf.

Hokey thankfully seemed to find the behaviour of the younger elf endearingly odd and indulged the elf, rather than be offended by it. Either way, Harry was very relieved to have their help and was even more grateful for the list of names and a summary of what they had said, and the elves suggestion of how to handle them.

Most of the letters the elves could use stock replies Harry had drawn up at their request. The really important ones they handed off to him, like a marriage proposal from when he was three, and an estate bequest.

Those he had to discuss with his friends and Slytherins and Rodgrip to make sure they were handled properly and he did not make any faux pas. Thankful the marriage proposal was not binding, and he had a politely drafted standard, 'I am honoured but, no thank you.' For any future proposals or betrothal contract, they found. Which unfortunately were numerous.

As to the estate bequest, it had been sold off a few years ago after he had not been heard from. But the deceased's a distant cousin who had handled the matter had put aside 200 gallons for him. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that, but transferred it into his new vault and sent back a sincere thank you to the distant cousin.

All in all, it was a pleasant breakfast, and a good way to start the weekend. But it didn't stop the tense feeling in his chest that had slowly been building since he had returned to school. He felt like he was slowly drowning.

After breakfast, Harry headed down to the Shack to meet Bill. He was already there when Harry got in and pulled Harry into a hug.

"Harry!" He explained still holding Harry tightly.

Harry felt something in him relax when Bill hugged him close. The tension that had been building since leaving nocturne seemed to drain right out of him, and he sagged against the older boy. He hadn't realised just how tense he'd been.

"Missed you, sweetheart," Bill said, "you haven't been writing or calling us. You avoiding us again?"

"Harry?" Bill asked when Harry didn't reply.

Harry just let out a non-committal hum and hugged Bill tighter, basking in the steady warmth of his magic. Bill chuckled, his chest vibrating under Harry's ear and cast a cleaning spell and a repairing spell at the ratty couch before sitting them both down on it with Harry on his lap.

"That bad is it, sweetheart?" Bill said soothingly, "I know you were worried about coming back to school.

Harry just shrugged and when Bill didn't seem inclined to push him away snuggled closer instead, resting his head on Bills' shoulder. It had been an okay morning, but he'd had enough this week. He was suddenly exhausted. He hadn't realised how bad it had gotten. Not until Bill had hugged him and it seemed to just unravel the tight, anxious, overwhelmed knot in his chest.

"Feel like calling Charlie? He's been worried. Been badgering me all week. He's missed hearing from you too." Bill said, and Harry nodded into Bills neck, fighting down a blush at the mention of another person that genuinely cared for him. It was so nice having people that liked him. Odd still but nice. He felt warm and safe here. He let himself relax.

Bill ran a hand up and down Harry's back soothingly and pulled out his mirror.

Harry woke sometime later, warm and comfortable to something warm moving soothingly up and down his back. He jerked.

The hand stilled, "it's alright, Harry. You're okay."

Harry blinked.

Bill.

He was on Bills lap, with his face still pressed into Bill's neck.

He jerked upright going scarlet, pushing away from Bill an apology already spilling from his lips. But Bill just soothingly pressed a warm hand to Harry's back, pulling him into a close hug again.

"It's fine, sweetheart, don't worry about it."

Harry looked up wearily checking Bill's face for anger. He'd fallen asleep, and wasted Bill's time, surely he'd be mad... Petunia had always been mad when he wasted her time...

Harry blinked, he couldn't see.

When had his glasses come off?!

Glasses were pressed into his hand, and the world swam back into focus as he put them on. Bill was watching him, his face not at all angry. Mildly concerned but no trace of any displeasure. In fact, Bill looked pretty relaxed. Harry reached out with his magic, looking for any hint of displeasure, any hint of threat. He caught a flash of worry, concerned, an image of Charlie's face in the mirror. But he could sense no anger. Just the warm, steady, reassuring magic that was Bill.

"Feeling any better, sweetheart?" Asked Bill.

Harry frowned, failed to stifle a yawn and said, "you're sure you're not mad? I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"I'm not mad, kiddo, don't worry about it. Charlie sends his love, by the way."

"Oh," Harry said, blinking confusedly.

"But I wasted your time, why aren't you mad? You should be mad."

"Of course I'm not, sweetheart!" Bill said, pulling Harry close again, "you obviously needed it, and that's okay. You're allowed to look after yourself, Harry. Did you sleep well?"

Harry stared at Bill for a long moment, something of an epiphany slowly ticking over at the edges of his mind, then he nodded. It was the best sleep he'd had in a while. Even with the dream catcher, he still had unsettling dreams. It helped, but it didn't stop them. Just pulled out the really nasty 'wake up screaming' nightmares - most of the time.

"I did," Harry said again getting up and stretching, "oh I meant to ask, I saw Dumbledore the first night back. Can you check me for magic? Hermione looked and didn't find anything, but we wanted to be sure."

"Sure," Bill said, standing and peering at Harry closely.

"You don't feel any different from normal, I usually would have noticed, now I know what your magic feels like when it's clean," he explained, "but I'll double-check?"

Harry nodded quickly, just in case the spells he and Hermione normally used had missed something. They were simpler ones then Bill's curse-breaking ones.

Bill waved his wand over Harry. His tests were not like the goblins, and he cast three different spells over harry, his magic washing over him comfortingly. His spells were more complicated than Hermione's, but they too came out clean.

"All clean," Bill said with a grin.

"Thanks," said Harry hugging Bill quickly as relief washed through him,

"We still got a bit of time," Bill said, "want to do some Occlumency?"

Bill was very pleased with Harry's progress in occlumency. Harry could easily throw Bill out, and his natural shields were recovering, if slowly.

The centre of Harry's mind had developed too. It was not just a cupboard now. Harry had been diligently shaping his mind, to make it hard to get into and even harder for an invader to find his memories.

His cupboard was still dark, and still had a nest of blankets and pillows. But it was a cozy cupboard. And more like a small attic with shelves and shelves of books. All his precious memories all hidden in pages of books on the shelves. All the painful memories, all the happy ones, all the important knowledge and everything he didn't want people sensing.

The cupboard was actually a small attic, in the roof of a sizeable wooden cottage in the centre of a wood that seemed to go on for miles. It was a nice, comfortable, homey space, again filled with shelves upon shelves of books.

He'd built the place around his cupboard so if anyone did get into his inner sanctuary, they would not think to keep looking further. The cottage was a decoy of sorts. This was the outer section of his inner sanctuary. There were still memories stored in the books here, all kept neatly ordered. But none of the truly important ones were out here; things like days at school, homework, the less painful days at the Dursley's.

Everything important was sorted safely away, hidden in the bookshelf in his attic. The attic with the hidden door.

He'd even managed to recall some hazy memories of his mother. They were fuzzy and not very clear, but he could remember feeling happy, and loved, the feel of her magic, her laugh, her smell, and the way she had sung him off-key lullabies.

That alone had made sorting all the painful memories worth it.

"well done!" Bill said when Harry told him about it.

"I'm having a much easier time remembering things," Harry said, "now that my mind is ordered."

"Well occlumency is mental discipline, and the brain is a muscle, the more you train it and practice with it, the easier things get."

"It's easier to remember things from way back, but it's also easier to remember things like what I had for breakfast three days ago," Harry said.

"Yeah, it's great," Bill said, "it helps with exam memorising too."

"Yeah, I still need to make sure I understand it, I can't just miraculously remember everything. But it's easier now. And if I really focus hard and review the memory and can reread a page of something I saw. But it's much harder, and it gives me a headache." Harry admired.

"Well, well done. Some people can manage to train their occlumency up to a level that basically works photographically," Bill explained, "Severus, is like that I think. But you need to really work at it, it's a muscle. It won't get there straight away. And not everyone can do it."

Harry nodded in understanding, "there are still a few weird things left that I haven't been able to sort." Harry said, recalling the eery white memories.

They had seeped into the blankets in his cupboard, making them hard to get to. And even when he did manage to narrow one down and draw it out, they seemed to slip away from him or seemed to coil up tight. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to get them unwoven enough to uncover the memory. There was no doubt in his mind, though, that they were the obliviated memories. And it was completely vexing that he knew where they were and he just couldn't get to them or decipher them.

"It's just these weird white wispy things left," he said, "I think they're what was obliviated. I can't touch them yet, it just gives me a headache."

"It will give you a headache if they're the obliviated memories." Bill confirmed, "You'll need a master legilimens to work it out, depending on how well they were obliviated. If it was Obliviated with the Complex Obliviate, done by a legilimens, then only a legilimens will be able to undo it. If it was just the simple Confundus Obliviate, you might be able to work it out in time. But most likely again, you'll need help from a legilimens that you trust to pick them apart. Some times they come back on their own, now you're aware of them, and now you're working on occlumency," Bill reassured at Harry's horrified face.

"Right," said Harry feeling a little disappointed, he had hoping Bill would be able to help him untangle them.

"Sorry kiddo," he said correctly reading Bill's face, "I'm not that good at Legilimency. I can do rudimentary legilimency, enough to start teaching you occlumency, but I'm not good enough to help you fix it," he said, wrapping Harry in a hug.

"So, now what?" Harry asked.

"Now we can start working on shields," Bill said flopping down on one end of the sofa and dragging Harry with him.

"Remember those exercises I got you to do for shielding the outer mind?" Bill asked.

"Focusing intently on something, visualising things like fire or endless fog," Harry recalled.

"Good, you want things like that around your inner mind too. You want to practice visualising them until you can recall them at will. You want to weave those images into the magical barriers we've been working on building up around your inner and outer mind." Bill said.

"So something like fog around the outer mind, or an image of fire or water," Harry said thinking aloud, "then something like a wall of fire around the inner protections, woven into the magical barriers I've been building, so it's harder to get into."

"Yes," Bill said.

"Can you layer several things?" Harry asked, "what about if the inner mind sanctuary is in something like a vault, a warded one. Then only way in is a twisting, confusing labyrinth of cart track, like Gringotts or going down an endless well. An intruder would get lost in the first, or lose their breath in the second. Then the entrance to those things are covered by fire and fog, or smoke. You'd have to go through all that to get to the inner mind it would be unpleasant, the fire would burn you, or make you think you were burning, the fog would make you think it was hard to breathe, as would a bottomless well of water. It would go against natural instincts to keep going through them. Survival instincts would say, stop, pull back, get out."

Bill blinked, "that's more specific and psychological than most people think of. Most people go for more abstract defences that literal ones, making it hard to find their inner mind. But it would act an extra layer of protection. It would take time to work up to though. The more complex you make it, the more magic and experience it will take. Start simple with just fire, for example, and making it realistic, then work up in complexity."

Harry thought about it a moment, "start small. Sometimes the most simple solutions can be the most powerful."

"You got it, sweetheart," Bill said, "your original fire idea, is good. It should work really well if you can capture the memory of heat. As could deep water if you can capture the feeling of needing to breathe. But maybe leave that for later, let's focus on fire for now."

"Could I weave in memories of fire?" Harry asked, "of what it's like, its heat and its sound, and how much the burns hurt?"

"Yes you can," Bill said, sounding a little sad, "the attacker would have to go through it, the memories to get to your inner mind. It would be a good deterrent, and using memories would make it easier to fool them into thinking they really are experiencing fire."

"Brilliant!" Harry cheeped far too cheerfully for having just talked about being burnt or making someone else think they were being burnt.

They meditated on it, and Bill coached Harry though a few guided meditations to help him start building his ideas.

And by the end of their lesson, Harry had sturdy walls of burning fire around his inner mind, and a dense fog of smoke around his outer mind. It was hard to hold at first, and harder again to weave in real memories into. But it was proving to be worth it when he had managed to keep Bill out twice. Bill hadn't even made it through the outer mind the first time. And when he did the second time he was stopped completely by the wall of fire.

At that point, Harry's walls had collapsed in exhaustion. It was hard work, and he couldn't maintain it for long. Though Bill assured him that would come with time and practice.

"Fuck me, that's hard work," Harry panted after Bill had called a halt.

"You did well, really well. Keep practising, but don't overwork yourself. The mind is a muscle. Too much practice at once can strain it."

Harry nodded, picking himself up off the floor where he'd fallen. It was an odd feeling having his mind so completely protected. It almost gave him a tightened sense of focus, of being able to compartmentalise a little.

"You'll want to be careful not to fully occlude all the time," Bill warned, tossing Harry a block of chocolate to build up his reserves.

"Why?" Harry asked, taking a large bite, and humming happily as warmth and strength seeped back into him.

"Well, it compartmentalises things at full strength so you can focus more on the defensive and think clearly than on emotional decisions or distress. It can be used to suppress emotions. And that's okay a little bit, in an emergency when fighting to keep someone out. But not all the time. It's dangerous. You'll have a breakdown if you do it too much. So you have to make sure you let your barriers down regularly. If you just turn off, you'll destroy yourself, and your mind will self destruct." Bill warned.

"But it would be nice not to feel sometimes," Harry said in a small voice, feeling a weight return to his shoulders.

"I know sweetheart," Bill said, "and a little sometimes is fine. But not all the time. It's not safe, and you'll end up blowing up or damaging your mind. You need to let yourself feel and process your emotions. They get toxic otherwise. Don't take that risk."

"The better you get at Occlumency, the easier it will be, and the more devastating the fall out will be when it stops." bill said, looking at Harry closely, "I can hold my shields moderately all day now, and that's as good as they'll ever get.

I'm not a natural, but it's good enough for most things, and I can make them stronger for shorter periods of time when I need to. But you have the capacity to be much better than me, so you'll need to be more careful and have the self-discipline to look after yourself and not abuse the power you have." Bill said, looking at Harry very seriously.

"Being able to switch off and just function on logic can be useful sometimes, but you need emotions too. You need a balance of logic and emotions to function well. Don't forget that, okay?"

Harry nodded, thinking of all the times as a child when he'd just turned off for a bit and how brutal the meltdowns had been when it had eventually gotten too much. It always did catch up to him in the end.

"I won't abuse it." He said quietly, "I don't want to bottle things up and explode. Things need to be dealt with as they come."

Bill hugged him tight, and it took Harry a little longer to relax into it, something Harry knew Bill noticed.

"Good job, love," Bill said, running a hand soothingly down Harry's stiff back. "Now let's do some work on your Legilimency and see if you can manage it deliberately this time. You leek sometimes, and I can feel your mind reaching out. We need to stop that, so you can control it."

And so they set to work. Unfortunately, Harry was not have as much luck with legilimency as occlumency. It was a lot harder to teach, as it was different for everyone. Especially as Harry was highly sensitive to magic and an empath, how he did legilimency was very different from Bill.

He could do the spell and perform it now, but he was having trouble gaining any fitness over the spell. He was also struggling not to accidentally picking up on peoples thoughts when he was sensing magic or emotion. It was hard to separate the three mental senses. Half the time he still wasn't aware he was doing legilimency. And no amount of occlumency had any effect on stopping his accidental legilimency.

It was very frustrating.

At least it was helping his friends with their Occlumency studies though.

END NOTES

Bill and harry hijacked the plot I had planned for this chapter... Was going to have all sorts of good and productive things happening... but instead this happened.

Also there is a method to snapes actions and it is not at all cruel the way harry assumes it to be… it will be explained later.

Just to clarify

You need two heads for a resort

Three heads to partition to be houseless instead of unhoused. (That basically a petition to change houses and removes the black mark of an h housing for your record) sorting only happens at the start of year feast.

Harry never actually asked snape for his help on the re-sort. He just assumed snape hates him still and won't help. There's a difference between his assumption and reality.


	65. Chapter 65 Bill sets Snape straight

Notes:

Someone said something about Bill grooming Harry and how it could be seen as something horrible and inappropriate. I hear you, and I see where your coming from, but no. Just no.

Bill and Harry are close, friends/family, there is nothing sexual or inappropriate about their relation ship. Bill is not interested in Harry that way, and never will be. And Harry isn't interested either. Their just friends/family, Bills also filling a mentor/family sort of role for Harry. Sorry if its made anyone uncomfortable.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Severus looked up from the potions he was decanting in his lab when there was a soft pinging sensation on the wards at his office door, alerting him to that someone was knocking on his door. He glanced at the clock, lunchtime. He frowned, he wasn't expecting anyone.

He flicked his wand at the cauldron to make it finish decanting itself, and crossed from his lab, to his office and opened the door.

He couldn't see anyone, but according to his wards, Bill Weasley was there. Must be under a disillusionment charm, he thought with a frown. He looked around, and then stepped out of the doorway, jerked his thumb to the door subtly.

He felt the air shift around him and thought he saw a ripple. He waited a moment, then closing the door. When the door was closed, Bill dispelled the charm.

Severus raised an eyebrow, "Mr Weasley, this is a surprise."

"Come on Severus, you've been calling me Bill in letters for ages." The redhead said with a grin, "makes me feel like I'm in school again," he added followed Severus back to his lab where the potion phials were now corking and labelling themselves.

"I'm in town with a bit of time today, and probably for the next few Saturdays. Thought I'd drop in and we could do lunch." Bill said.

Severus blinked at him clearly surprised, and when he opened his mouth and shut it, Bill said, "I know you're stupidly busy and overworked. I've been thinking about that. I figured maybe if I give you a hand, we might finish sooner and we could catch up in person for a change."

Something warm, spread through Severus's chest, it had been a long time since anyone had been thinking about his problems and offered to help him so they could spend time with him. He had Filius, but Filius too was nearly as overworked as Severus was.

He looked at Bill for a long moment. Standing in front of him, looking nervous and a bit awkward. And was that a blush on the tops of his ears? Why on earth was the man nervous or embarrassed? Severus liked the man, but Bill did baffle him at times.

"That would be appreciated, thank you." He said after a moment.

With Bill's help, Severus got though a whole days worth of brewing for the hospital wing and some of his Gringotts orders. Bill wasn't a master, but was a competent brewer and was able to help with all the preparation and some of the less insanely complicated brews.

It had been a long time since Severus had brewed with another person, and actually enjoyed it. Not since Lily. But Severus found himself enjoying it. Especially as Bill kept up an easy chatter of what he'd been up to at work, some of the interesting curses he'd dealt with, a few old potions they'd found and how amazing the Alexandrian library he was doing some research in was. In fact, Severus was a little jealous that Bill was getting to spend time in that library, though he wondered what the man was researching for Gringotts.

And Bill got Severus talking too. How had he been since they'd last seen each other? Was that book he'd written to Bill about tracked down everything he'd hoped it would be.

It had been a very long time since Severus had felt this at east with another person. And he found himself feeling oddly fond of the man who had given up a few hours of his, presumably day off, to help Severus just so they could spend some time together.

Once they were finished and the lab immaculately clean again, Severus called some late lunch.

When they were nearly finished, Severus was trying to put off going back to work and getting his marking done. He had intended to spend all day brewing then tomorrow marking, but with Bill's help, his brewing was done. He should get to the marking, but he found himself very reluctant.

Then Bill said, "so how have you really been lately? You seem different, and your magic feels different again. You've also avoided my question last time I asked."

Severus sighed heavily, not sure where to start, suddenly too tired to get angry and he knew if he started talking about it, he'd get angry.

"You had bindings on you, didn't you?" Bill said, somehow going straight to the point, "I was right, there was something wrong with your magic."

"Come here just to say I told you so?" Severus sneered suddenly, of course.

"No!" Bill said, "Gods, no! You dolt! I came here to see you. I like you, you git! You're my friend. I like spending time with you. And I like knowing my friends are okay. I've been worried. You've felt weird these last few years and wouldn't listen when I said something was off and now you don't feel weird any more. It's odd. I wanted to make sure you're okay," Bill said in a rush.

Severus narrowed his eyes and then said in a soft, dangerous voice, "did. You. Know?"

But Bill didn't quail, just stared back at him, leaning back comfortably in his chair and said, "no. I didn't. I suspected something was up. But couldn't figure out what. Not that I could do anything."

Severus felt his blood starting to boil, and he spat out a list of technical names of each of the compulsions and magics that had been on him as if they were dirty. It was like an accusation.

But Bill didn't react to the accusation, he just winced. "Ouch," he said, course the Curse Breaker would understand perfectly what each one was.

"Ouch?!" Severus exclaimed, "if you knew something was wrong, why didn't you know!? Why didn't you do something! Four year's I've been stuck with these subtle twisting compulsions! Longer! I have bullied students and done things I never would have done without them." He yelled, trying and failing to keep his fury leashed.

Bill sighed, "I knew something was off, you were never like this when I was your student. But that was all I knew. I didn't learn to feel it properly until I started working at Gringotts, which was around the same time you would have been spelled. And I couldn't work it out without scans, and those kinds of deep scans need permission and to be done willingly or your magic would have fought back, and the results would have been off."

Severus frowned, "I thought you had mage sense?" He asked, not pleased to admit that he didn't understand. He didn't have mage sense, not really. He had had to work hard for it, to sense any magic, not his own or in his potions. And it was not very strong, only able to sense it in objects if he really worked at it.

Bill seemed to understand that though, and explained, "I'm sensitive to magic but am not super sensitive to it. I can feel it if I focus, but I'm not as strong with it as Charlie. I get general impressions and can identify who's who if I know them well, or what sort of magic it is in curses and the like. I can sense how magical something is. I can tell if your magic is agitated or has changed, but that's because I know you. But I can't sense fine details of what's wrong. Just that it's different, moving differently or acting differently or just feels a bit off.

Any kind of subtle manipulative magic, like you had, I'd have to use a scan to look at, and wouldn't recognise without magical help. I knew something was up but not what and couldn't do anything about it when you were sure you were fine and didn't need any help. Even when I really tried to focus on it, it's really just a blurred picture, not enough to go on. I'm so sorry Severus, So sorry." He finished sounding pained.

Severus sighed, "it's not your fault, I should have listened to you," Severus said quietly after a moment, his shoulders slumping, "I did so much under that magic. Was something I never would have allowed myself to be, while under those magics, for so long."

"But you're free now," Bill said, "how did you manage that by the way?"

So Severus told him about his trip to Gringotts, and Bill just said, "good. I like the goblins, they'll make sure it doesn't happen again.

They were quiet for a while then eventually Severus said, "next time you are here, can you check out a student for me? They are suddenly unable to regulate or maybe feel the flow of their magic in their brewing, and they are blowing things up. I can teach them to mitigate the damage, but I think something may be wrong with them.

"If course," Bill said immediately, then after looking at Severus a moment, simply asked, "who and why?"

"I can not tell you who, but I am concerned for their welfare." Severus said with a frown, "this change is sudden and extreme. Which can mean nothing good? That sort of thing doesn't change by itself, and not overnight. It's worrisome."

Bill sat forward in his chair, looking sharply at Severus, "what are you going to do with that information?"

"Make sure they are well and if there is an issue, treat it. It could be a serious and potentially dangerous problem for them!" Severus said looking offended

"No, who are you going to tell if there is an issue with this person?"

"That is between them and me," said Severus narrowing his own eyes now, suspicious but still sounding mildly offended.

"So not their guardian?" Bill said probingly.

Severus looked at Bill sharply for a long silent minute. Not in consideration of the question but in considering how much, if at all, to trust Bill with.

"I suspect it's complicated. So no, not their guardian in this case. It is not safe," he ended up saying.

Bill sighed in relief and flopped further back in his chair, as if that had answered all his questions and settled the matter entirely.

"Good," He said, before he went on, "he's fine. I promise you, he's okay. I know about the issue, it's been looked at. He's okay."

"But he can't be! He was fine earlier in the year, but now, suddenly can not regulate the flow of magic at all in his brewing and is blowing things up worse than anyone in the class!"

Bill sighed more heavily this time and looked at the up at the ceiling as if in silent debate or as if in askance for guidance. Then he looked at Severus sharply for another assessing moment, as if searching for something, analysing.

Severus just met his gaze wondering at the protective, defensive flair he saw in Bill's eyes.

"Give me a tick, yeah?" Bill said eventually, seemingly having found whatever he was looking for in Severus's gaze.

He then turned and cast a ward around him. Suddenly Severus could neither see nor hear him. Severus narrowed his eyes but decided to humour the man.

Harry left his lesson with Bill and headed into the forest to eat lunch. After spending all week in the castle around people, he was desperate for some of the solitude of the forest.

Harry had been trying to keep up with the duties Hagrid had been neglecting in the grounds that week. Most he'd managed to stay on top of during his daily trips into the forest. Thankfully the Centaurs, who were also caretakers of the forests had given him a hand. The centaurs had taken a liking to the human almost-herd-mate.

So that afternoon Harry just needed to check the woodlice they farmed for the bowtruckles, check on a bowtruckle nesting out of season, check on the thestrals, unicorns and hippogryphs as well as feed the Blast-Ended Skrewts and persuade a cranky Kapper with an ear infection to take its tonic.

The Kapper required a large number of cucumbers as bribery and the Skrewts were getting huge. And dangerous. Harry ended up using one of his fireproof robes and his dragonhide gloves when he dealt with the Skrewts. They were now only five left, and they were easily as big as Harry.

He certainly did not really like checking on them or going anywhere near them at all. But at least he was getting good at his stupefy charm and his impedimenta junks. Though magic really only worked on their soft underbelly, didn't last very long. The bigger they got, the more magic resistant they seemed to get. Harry had been looking up other spells to use on them. And was starting to think a blasting spell may soon be the only way to keep them back. As long as he didn't hit them in the belly with it, it should just push them back, not kill them.

Harry was just about to do his rounds on the grounds, to check up on the class creatures Hagrid cared for when his mirror started buzzing in his bag.

He frowned, and pulled it out, and saw Bills face appear. Flicked up a quick privacy ward around him, Harry hurried to tap it with his wand and receive the call.

Bill looked, worried. Or maybe hesitant was more accurate.

"Bill?" Harry asked, "Is everything okay? What happened."

"Severus asked me about you, he's concerned," Bill started.

The colour drained from Harry's face as if a plug had been pulled and Bill hurried to reassure him, "it's okay sweetheart, you're fine! He asked about your magic.

"What?!" Harry yelped, starting to breathe a little too fast.

"Breath Harry," Bill said, "just breathe, it's okay."

Harry shook his head franticly but forced himself to take a breath and plopped down on the cold grass.

"Severus is really worried about you. After your lesson with him last night, he is worried there might be something wrong with your magic. Bill said

"What?!" Harry squeaked.

"He's concerned."

Harry shot him a panicked disbelieving look and Bill explained, "he's had experience with issues of the like, and noticed because of the sudden change in your brewing. He's very worried something could be hampering your magic and wanted me to check it out."

"But I'm fine. We fixed that. What do you mean he had experience with the like?"

"I can't go into detail." Bill said, "But he's worried about you and wants to help-"

Harry filed that away for later but snorted, and shook his head, "he hates my guts. He really really hates my guts."

"I know he fucked up, I haven't forgotten, even if you won't tell me about it. And neither has he."

Harry looked at him incredulously at that, but Bill continued, "he wants to know what's wrong with your magic, and how he can help fix it. Let him help you, Harry. He's worried. And is genuine in his desire to help this time." Bill said patiently, not at all looking frustrated with Harry. For which Harry was grateful.

"No... but... he..." Harry trailed off.

"He is. And will keep worrying about you until he knows what's going on. He's stubborn like that. He wants to help, he's on your side. Truly. Will you let him help?" Bill said

"He's hurt me. I just want him to leave me alone." Harry said in a small voice, almost a whisper, "he was so mad Bill."

"I know sweetheart, and he knows that too." Bill said softly, "he's trying to fix it."

"You trust him?" Harry asked half desperate for reassurance, half incredulously disbelieving.

"I do," Bill said then carefully, "I think he could be an asset to you. Another person on your side that you don't have to fight. He's not going to control you, Harry, he's not on Dumbledore's side."

"You think I should tell him?" Harry asked his voice small, thinking of all he knew of the potions master.

He couldn't breathe, everything was freezing up inside.

"I know you're scared, Harry, but I think it's important. He saved your life, he vowed to protect you. He was a prick and fucked up, he was awful, but he knows that now. I think it might be wise to tell him. So he can help you better with potions if nothing else, as your teacher, he needs to know a bit about what's giving you trouble so he can help you learn." Bill's voice filtered through the case in his mind.

"But," Harry stuttered fear biting at his insides again.

"It will be okay. But I really do think he needs to know as your teacher. He's on your side," Bill went on.

"You really think I need to tell him?" Harry stuttered.

"Or let me tell him. I'm not saying trust him with all your secrets. just enough for him to understand how to help you as your potions teacher." Bill said, "he can't help you with your options if he doesn't know what's wrong."

"I guess," Harry said bringing his knees to his chest and looking off into the trees

"And," Bill added, "the mans a genius, he'll probably figure it out anyway, sooner or later."

Harry's heart sank as fear clenched in his insides again.

Bill paused, then asked hesitantly, "Harry... do you trust me, sweetheart?"

Harry stared at Bill wide-eyed. He looked at Bill's face for a long moment before he realised, to his shock, that he did.

He did trust Bill.

At least with this.

He remembered the worried look on Bill's face after the ritual, and how steady Bill had been through that whole thing. He remembered how Bill had been there when Harry and Hermione had been panicking at her parent's house about the war, and Bill had woken up to reassure them. He remembered Bill's hugs, and how safe he'd felt. He remembered how relieved he'd been when Bill had let him sleep and then hadn't been mad.

He stared at Bill, scared again but not of Professor Snape this time. He did trust Bill. And that was terrifying. But he saw no deception in Bill's face. Just warm, honest caring. It made Harry's chest hurt. His eyes stung, he looked away.

He, Harry trusted Bill Weasley. Maybe not as much as he trusted Hermione, but Harry trusted him enough that it scared him. He trusted that Bill cared. He honestly cared and wanted to help Harry, and Harry really could trust that Bill was right in this. He would be there for him and not lead him astray. If Bill thought this was a good course of action, Harry could trust in that.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, it was too much. He drew in a shuddering breath, but no words came out. He couldn't say it! The words got stuck. They were just words, but he couldn't say them... He felt raw and overexposed, and...

Broken.

Finally, Harry merely nodded.

"Thank you for your trust, love. I won't misplace it." Bill said his voice ruff as if he knew how much it cost Harry. As if he knew what Harry's trust was worth. It was as if Bill knew that to a person like Harry, trust meant more than love ever would, and it was a fragile, precious thing.

To a person like Harry, trust was everything. A wonderful terrifying thing.

Harry still didn't look at him, resting his cheek on his knees and staring off into the forest.

"I still just want him to leave me alone," Harry said, sounding small again.

"I know, sweetheart," Bill said quietly, "but he need to know so he can teach you properly, it will work out, I promise. I won't let him use it against you, love. I won't let him,"

Harry peered back into the mirror, looking at him searchingly, then nodded.

"Okay, okay, I-" but the words got caught again, and he just said, "okay Bill."

"I'll talk to him, don't worry too much okay, sweetheart?" Bill said, understanding what Harry couldn't articulate.

Harry nodded with a sigh.

"I'll talk to you soon, it'll be alright," Bill said before the mirror went dark.

A long while passed before the ward was removed, and Bill said, "sorry, had to check."

His face looked a bit pained and worried, but he said, "you are correct in thinking that it's complicated. There is a lot at stake, and there are confidentiality oaths involved."

Bill looked at Severus meaningfully, Severus bit down his irritation and nodded in understanding, "what can you tell me?"

"I can say that it is not an issue with Harry's magic," Bill explained carefully, not going into more detail than Severus needed to know.

"He had an issue feeling his own magic. It's fixed now. But he now finds himself highly tuned to something he's never been able to feel before. There is nothing wrong with it, or him, it's just new. He just doesn't know what to do with it now he has access to it properly."

Severus almost goggled at him. But Severus did not goggle, merely stared, then said, "well shit!"

"Yeah." Bill snorted fondly, "yeah, pretty much,"

"I would say tell me the person responsible for that, and that they paid for it. But I have a feeling I know who it is and that they have not." Snape said icily.

Bill said nothing, and Severus nodded, in understanding. Bill couldn't say anything, but then, his silence was answer enough.

"So you are you on his side then?" Severus asked, looking at Bill hard in the eye, "truly on his side?"

Bill felt Severus's magic rise crackling, stronger than usual, "yes," Bill said, firmly, his voice hard and certain, "yes I am."

The magic settled, and he added, "I cannot let you in my head to prove it, I have too many secrets and oaths, but yes. I am. Are you?" Bill pressed, his voice hard again.

"Yes," Severus whispered, something pained in it.

"Really?" Bill pressed, raising an elegant eyebrow, "because he is absolutely fucking terrified of you. You have no idea what it cost him to trust my judgment that you needed to know this. He's certain you hate him and want to see him fail, miserably," Bill said not unkindly or accusingly, but more as stating the way things were.

It was only that that kept Severus from raising his hackles.

Severus let his shoulders sag in slight defeat instead, and he rubbed at his tired eyes. Goddess below, it was only one in the afternoon, and he was exhausted.

"Yes," he breathed out, almost desperately, pained, "yes. I am on his side. Always even if I have done a poor job of it. I never meant for this."

Bill sagged in relief, "okay. Okay good. We need more allies."

And it was only then that they noticed how much tension had been in the room when it was suddenly gone.

"Good," Bill said again, "I _really_ didn't want to have to obliviate you."

Severus snorted at that, making Bill giving him a look and say, "I may not be great at Legilimency, but I know how to keep secrets safe when I have to."

It was only then that Severus realised that Bill had his wand in his hand and was twirling it casually between his fingers. When had he drawn his wand? Severus was a spy for fucks sake! His very life depended on noticing things! How had he missed that!

Severus couldn't suppress a sardonic smile, the young man was full of surprises.

"You're teaching him aren't you," Severus said suddenly, "that's why you're here, and you said you would be next Saturday. You're teaching him in the mornings, tutoring him. And if you can't tell me it's probably Gringotts sanctioned, _goblin_ sanctioned."

Bill said nothing, but smiled in a pleased sort of way, "NDA's are a beautiful, useful thing."

"In that case, I shall give you the notes Filius, and I have drawn up for our plans to teach the boy under the guise of all his detentions. He needs tutoring and extra help if he's to end up staying not-dead. And I've put too much work in over the last few years for him to die now." Severus said gruffly, almost sounding embarrassed for caring.

"I'd appreciate it if you could cross off the things you're covering or have covered, so we don't waste time," Severus said, handing over a sheaf of papers, "He has too many people out for his blood to waste time overlapping topics."

Bill grinned and said fondly, "I do love the way your brain works."

Severus, despite himself, and for the first time in years, went red.

Bill swallowed down an affectionate, delighted laugh, worried he'd said too much, and just took the proffered papers without a word, looking them over.

"I'm _not_ crossing off occlumency," Bill said pointedly, with a meaningful look.

"You know I'm really not that good at Legilimency." He went on almost conversationally, "Good enough to start someone off with but they could do with a someone better, all things considered."

Severus picked up on the unspoken message. Potter was being taught, but help would be appreciated, needed. And with the Dark Lord on the comeback, and with too many things Severus needed to stay hidden, needed Harry to keep hidden if he could tell the boy anything at all, Occlumency would have to be worked on.

_Sweet Hekate below, that was going to be difficult_. It was a hard mental discipline, and Severus was one of the best. And that was what Harry would need, with all he was up against, with all that was at stake. But still, Occulemency was a delicate art to teach, it required trust...

Taking the papers back from Bill, he paused as he skimmed the now annotated sheets, "knowing you're on his side too, let me say this. I am very... worried about his home life." He started, choosing his words carefully. "There is little I can do about it. Certainly not now I have scared him off by being a right prick. And certainly not with certain others involved who have too much power... over both him and me."

Bill raised an eyebrow at this and asked, "what _did_ you do? He wouldn't tell me, but I know _something_ happened."

There was only a hint of accusation in the tone.

"I lost my temper at him," Severus said with an ashamed disgusted sigh, "not intentionally, but it happened all too often around him under that compulsion and my ability to verbally eviscerate people is not a benign weapon. I scared him." he said, thinking back, "badly, I think... he forgot where he was, and who I was, maybe. I think he thought me someone else or got confused... He said some things, and I realise he knew some personal things about my school days that I am deeply ashamed of... I and lashed out. I should not have."

"ah..." Bill said in understanding, "you're an pillock, a complete and utter pillock. You plonker, that was a dick move, but I get it. You were out of line but were under magic, and not in total control. But you really need to work on mending that bridge."

Severus nodded miserably, "the compulsions do not excuse it, however."

Bill laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, startling Severus, though he did not show it, "no, but it explains it and it wasn't entirely your fault."

Severus sighed.

"I know what you're talking about in regards to his home life." Bill went on, "that contributed to him being shaken so badly about that incident. He..." Bill trailed off not sure how to describe the conversation he and Harry had had over the break about Bill and Severus and how worried Harry had been. And actually did he even want to mention it?

Severus just raised a thin eyebrow in askance, hating it when people trailed off.

Bill's ears went a little red and choosing his words carefully he said, "he worked out we were friends and warned me that I could be hurt by you."

"It took me a while to reassure him. He was really worried, he didn't say what happened, or what had bothered you. But it really freaked him out. You need to mend that fence."

Severus winced, "I have made many mistakes with him, but that last one is one of the mistake I regret most."

"Tell him, apologies to him," Bill said earnestly. "He says he never forgives, but he may with time. He won't forget, and he is achingly slow to trust. There will always possibly be some level of doubt, but I think you can patch it up. But you have to be on his side and have his back no matter what. And talk to him. Don't hide shit or manipulate him. He'll see it coming, and it will break his trust, which is so fragile and precious, Severus. You have to be careful with him," Bill said earnestly worry in his eyes.

"We are working on it, Filius and I, on making sure he has the support he needs and should have had. Did he tell you about the detentions? The un-housing? He and his group of friends are almost entirely alone against the whole school. We're trying to fix it.

We haven't managed to corner them yet, so we've sent them an owl. We've sorted out a re-housing for them. To clear their record. It was never fair of them to be unhoused like that. They've been treated appallingly. We can't punish the perpetrators of the bullying, certain people see it as harmless. But we can help mitigate some of the damage and make some things easier for them, Harry and your twin bothers and their friends. We're working on it as fast as we can. But it has not been done in so long it is taking somewhat longer than expected to tick all the boxes so to say.

Bill sagged in relief, "good, good. Thank you, Severus," Bill said, unable to restrain himself from pulling his friend into a tight grateful hug.

Severus froze. It had been a long time since he had been hugged. Not since Lily had died. His throat ached. And for a horrible moment, he thought he might cry. He hadn't cried since Lily had died either. But now... now he was close.

_Hekate help him_, he was becoming weak.

Bill either sensed his turmoil and was patient with him, or sensed none of it but was patient anyway. He waited there, holding Severus close until Severus carefully placed his arms around the other man and hugged him back.


	66. Help will always be given, at Hogwarts

NOTES:

Sorry it's late, my boss has the flu and I was called in to cover for her

Happy Reading!

Harry finished doing his rounds for Hagrid sometime later that afternoon. He was a bit nervous about doing it without Hagrid. But he managed to check on their charges and care for them easily, despite missing his friend's reassuring presence. It was good to lose himself in looking after the animals.

Part of him was still reeling in the realisation that he trusted Bill.

He. Trusted. Bill.

Him, Harry, the Freak Under the Stairs! Who was no-one and nothing, had someone he could trust. Two someones. Three! Bill, Charlie and Hermione. He trusted all of them.

And then there was Fred and George and Neville too. He trusted that they were his friends and wouldn't hurt him.

The force of it frightened him enough that his hands shook.

Part of him still didn't want to think about the conversation he'd had with Bill, or that Bill would have with Professor Snape. He didn't want to think of the consequences.

But he wanted to know what would happen, wanted to know how (if?) it would blow up spectacularly in his face. And as scared as he was, he did trust Bill.

Besides he thought morosely, he'd get his chance later that evening, as he still had to drop off the potion ingredients he'd gathered for the Professor. Hagrid normally took up what they gathered every weekend, but now Harry had to do it.

But first, he wanted to see if he could persuade Hagrid to let him in. Just in case. He missed his friend.

But no amount of tapping on Hagrid's back door, or pleading would help.

A bit disheartened Harry deposited a few rabbits he had snared and left them at Hagrid's back door for him along with some herbal tea.

He didn't dawdle on his way up to the castle and into the dungeons. He wanted to get it out of the way. He did however neatly manage to avoid being seen by Diggory and a few Gryffindor Seventh years on his way down to the dungeons. He hesitated when he stopped in front of Professor Snape's office door.

Most of the work in the forest he genuinely enjoyed, and he was confident in his competence. But he was a bit hesitant to deliver the ingredients he (and normally Hagrid) collected to Professor Snape. He was sure the man would find some flaw in anything Harry produced, real or perceived.

He had no idea how he'd be received. He was a Gryffindor, he told himself sternly, a descendent of Godric himself, he would not cower, he told himself sharply, and, hands shaking, he knocked on the door.

It swung open a moment later, and Professor Snape stood towering over him in the doorway. He had an eyebrow raised in question but did not seem angry.

"Mr Potter, what do I owe this... pleasure?" He drawled.

Harry just thrust the basket of ingredients towards him and not looking up said, "the ingredients... Hagrid... er... collects, sir. Hagrid couldn't this week... um... there's not quite as much, but I hope I haven't mangled them too badly!" Harry babbled, looking ready to bolt.

But to his surprise Professor Snape didn't say anything cutting, just took the basket from him without a word and took it over to his desk. He didn't shut the door in Harry's face either, so Harry waited tentatively, peering over the threshold, too intimidated to go in.

To Harry's surprise, the Professor didn't inspect them at all; instead, he turned back to Harry and crooked a finger at him.

Harry stepped tentatively into the office, feeling wards brush over him. He blinked.

Professor Snape then said, "I am sure they are adequate as usual, Mr Potter. I had been unaware of your assistance to Professor Hagrid."

Harry flinched, hoping he wasn't about to get in trouble for that too, but instead, Professor Snape said something very strange instead.

"We had wondered who was filling in for him, Filius, Pomona and I. We asked Wilhelmina how she was managing with the extra duties and imagine our surprise when she said someone else must have been taking care of them. As everything had consistently been taken care of when she went to address them."

Harry blinked, not sure what the right answer was, and settled on shrugging. He wondered briefly who Wilhelmina was then realised it must be Professor Grubblyplank. It hadn't occurred to him that anyone else would be asked to take over Hagrid's duties, and he hadn't thought twice about taking care of them for his friend, they now did a lot of them together anyway. He'd learnt an awful lot from Hagrid that way.

Harry stared at the floor, not sure what Professor Snape wanted him to say.

Eventually, Professor Snape just seemed to sigh and said, "thank you, Mr Potter, you may go."

Harry blinked, dumbstruck, then said, "Thanks sir, sorry for disturbing you," and scuttled for the door.

"Mr Potter," Professor Snape called freezing Harry in his tracks.

Harry turned slowly, reluctantly. Professor Snape's expression was unreadable, and he looked as if he were about to say something.

But instead, he just looked at Harry piercingly for a long moment, as if analysing him. It made Harry shiver. After a moment Professor Snape just said, "it would behove you not to be caught in my domain, especially by some of your peers. It has been noticed, the consequences could be nasty."

And what on earth was that about? It could have been Professor Snape trying to warn Harry to be careful. And wouldn't that have been interesting?

He'd saved Harry's life, time and time again, and had vowed to protect him. He was on their side. Always had been. So in that sense, Bill was probably right. Harry could trust Professor Snape not to sell him out to Riddle or Dumbledore. Bill had said Professor Snape was worried and wanted to help.

But Professor Snape hated him. And that was most likely a threat than a warning. He hated and loathed Harry. He was probably just trying to tell him to get lost.

Harry went up to the Room of Requirement after leaving the dungeons to spend some time with his friends before detention. He spent an enjoyable hour with the twins, Neville and Hermione. The room had created a brilliant lake-like pool. Neville and Hermione had gotten some Gillyweed from Professor Sprout. They were all practising using it and getting around underwater and manoeuvring about with propulsion charms.

It was fun being in the water. It was certainly less terrifying for Harry now he could swim, especially with friends to explore the pool's bottom with. The room didn't conjure plants and animals, but it had made underwater caves and ruins and all sorts of fun places to explore.

They nearly ran out of Gillyweed when their hour was up, having too much fun chasing each other in and out of the underwater landscape. But the room seemed to know and had drained the water as the gillyweed was wearing off.

They were tired and damp when they went down to the kitchen after showering for supper, swearing that they should definitely do that again.

It was a content and happy Harry who went down to detention that evening. At least he would have some happy memory's to sort when he practised occlumency while cleaning for Filch.

However, he wasn't cleaning with Filch. He had almost reached Filch's office only to have a house-elf pop in front of him and hand him a note.

"Mr Potter,

Professor Snape will be overseeing your detention tonight as he has some cauldrons in need of scrubbing. Please present yourself to his office at the requisite time.

Professor M McGonagall

PS I would prefer it if I did not need to send castle elves after you because your peers and Mr Filch are unable to locate you!"

Harry slumped in defeat, crumpled the note up and incinerated it with a flick of his wand. He turned on his heel to hurry down to the dungeons shoving his emotions into a box. He then abruptly changed directions and ducked into a snake passageway, pulled on the invisibility cloak, and pulled out the map.

Professor Snape didn't want him seen, and Harry wasn't stupid enough to deliberately irritate the man. Not anymore. Especially not after how well that had worked out for him last time.

Thankfully, he was not seen and managed to make it down with two minutes to spear using every secret passage and shortcut he knew.

While Harry had come out of his encounter earlier with Professor Snape almost totally unscathed. Harry didn't trust the man's uncharacteristically good mood to last with having to see Harry twice in one day.

He expected sneers, insults and snarls. He was surprised to find Professor Snape waiting for him, in his office, with a civilised tone, "I've been thinking about your issue, and how we can help Mr Potter."

Harry' first thought was, what the fuck? He reached out tentatively with his mind, but Professor Snape just felt troubled and calculating.

Harry narrowed his eyes cynically, when had an adult ever actually thought about his problems and actually tried to help? Let alone actually follow through? And what did Professor Snape care? He hated him.

But Bill had said he wanted to help...

"Come with me, Mr Potter," he said sharply, flicking his wand, making Harry flinch. But he had only lit the empty fireplace.

"Have you Flooed before?" The man asked, his voice unusually devoid of sneer and loathing.

"Yes sir," Harry said the colour draining from his face as the flames sprang to life.

He had Flooed but only a few times. It had not ended well the first time, he recalled with a shudder. And after when returning back to the Burrow after shopping, the twins had had to help him through the Floo. Harry had been both mortified and but too relieved to even protest.

And he'd still fallen on his face. Then there was flooding from Private Drive to the Burrow before the World Cup. Harry had managed to right grate but still face-planted on the kitchen floor.

Goddess help me, he thought.

Somehow Professor Snape must have caught his unease and unbelievably said, "we are only going between Floo's in the castle Potter, you need not worry about being spat out in the middle of nowhere. Let the castle guide you." He added sternly.

For Professor Snape that was almost reassuring, Harry thought alarmed. It did not, however, lessen his anxiety. What on earth was going on? Was he going to be delivered to Dumbledore?

Bill was wrong about him, Harry thought with a feeling of horror and betrayal, as his breathing speed up and his hands started to shake. Bill had been wrong!

But Professor Snape handed him a pot of Floo powder and said, "our destination is called Filius Flitwick's office."

A wave of disbelieving confused relief rushed through Harry so strongly his knees almost buckled. Not Dumbledore then. Good.

Not wanting to be yelled at for dawdling Harry hurriedly took a pinch of powder tossed it into the fire as he reached out to Hogwarts magic. Sensing her embrace him, he stepped into the fireplace and said "Professor Filius Flitwick's office."

There was a whooshing sensation, he spun like a top in the flames for a moment, before being sent flying out another grate a moment later. He toppled, but instead of smashing into the floor, he was...

Neatly caught by Fred?

Harry blinked. It couldn't be that bad if the Twins were there he thought, as Fred passed him off to George out of the way of the Floo.

Still, a little disorientated Harry didn't object to the manhandling and leaned into George as he wearily watched the fire flair green again. Professor Snape stepped gracefully out, not even looking ruffled.

Probably trying to lighten Harry's mood, Fred jokingly said, "that was nicely done, professor-"

"-much more coordinated than our Harry-kins," Teased George.

Harry gave George a light elbow in the ribs and pushed him away but didn't really mind. Not when he could feel how fond of him they felt.

The Professor just raised an eyebrow and said dryly, "indeed," before turning the look on his colleague.

Professor Flitwick seemed to be able to interpret that, beamed and said, "I have sent them a message. They're on their way."

Harry turned to the twins, but they just shrugged.

"Whatever it was-"

"-we didn't do it."

"this time!" they finished in hushed tones.

"You're not in trouble boys," Professor Flitwick said conjuring up two more chairs behind his desk as Professor Snape started conjuring ones in front of it.

Harry and the twins exchanged another look as there was a knock on the door.

A slightly grubby Professor Sprout came in, followed by an equally grubby Neville and a marginal neater Hermione.

"We promised to help Professor Sprout for an hour or two in exchange," Hermione answered Harry's unasked question of what they'd been doing. Harry nodded, she must have been referring to the Gillyweed.

Professor Flitwick ushered them into their seats. Harry was thoroughly worried now but pleased that whatever it was, his friends were with him. It couldn't be too bad if they were all in trouble together.

Hopefully...

"Now," said Professor Sprout "we've called you all here just to get this nasty un-housing business taken care of."

Harry felt like he'd been punched in the gut and unable to stop himself from giving Professor Snape another worried glance. But the man was pulling a roll of parchment from his voluminous robes somewhere and slid it onto the desk.

"Now if you'll just put your names down there," Professor Flitwick said far too cheerily, pulling out a quill, "will have this whole business fixed up and you'll officially go from being un-housed to houseless. This will right the wrong done to you by your old house and expunge your record."

Hermione burst into tears. Harry put an arm around her and pulled her close, for his own comfort as much as hers. Relief coursed through him.

Houseless was infinitely better than the shame and scorn of un-housing and being kicked out and abandoned.

"It's going to be okay," he murmured to Hermione as much as himself, "it's going to be okay," he mumbled again, hardly believing it.

"I know," she sniffled, "But I was so scared. I don't regret it, Harry, but I was so scared," she whispered wetly into his shoulder.

They were going to be okay.

Houseless was a state of limbos before a rehousing took place. Houseless had no black mark, no horrible consequences, no stigma. Houselessness wasn't a bad thing. It wasn't a punishment. It just meant a student was being re-sorted at the next welcoming feast.

Neville seemed to unfreeze first, beamed at Professor Sprout before he picked up the quill and signed before passing it across to Fred and George.

Harry still holding Hermione, glanced up at his professors with a frown. He'd not expected this. He'd not expected help. He was grateful for it, unbelievably great full for it... but puzzled. What were they playing at? What did they want? What would the cost be? And what was Professor Snape doing helping him? Professor Snape hated him!

But maybe Bill was right. Maybe the man did want to help? Maybe he really did want to protect Harry. Or at least a little? After all Bill's judgment so far had always been sound, so maybe Bill was right in trusting the terrifying man a little bit. Harry'd have to wait and see.

Hogwarts magic shifted around him, and he caught a feeling of glee and satisfaction from her.

Oh, he thought, Hogwarts.

He remembered suddenly what Dumbledore had said in second year. Help would always be given in Hogwarts for those who asked. The man may be an ass, but he'd been right about Hogwarts.

He relaxed, thank you, my lady, he thought in the direction of the castle.

Her magic warmed around him, hugging him. He got an impression of a smug satisfaction before she gave him a mental nudge in the direction of his teachers.

It wasn't all her, his teachers had done the work. She'd just supported them.

He frowned but said, "thank you, sir's, ma'am" taking up the quill.

It was a short and straight to the point form simply stating that the three professors had authorised the following students to he houseless while awaiting a re-sort the following September.

Harry signed and passed it to Hermione, who was wiping her eyes with a conjured handkerchief.

"You should not have to thank us for doing our jobs," Professor Snape snarled.

Harry had to force back a flinch at the man's hard tone.

Bugger, he'd fucked it up again, could he never get anything right around that man?

"Now then," Professor Flitwick said, clapping his hands, "you'll be re-sorted at the opening feast next year. The sorting can only be done once a year you see. So things will be all back to normal then."

"In the meantime," Professor Sprout said, "you'll be houseless, so the un-housing will be removed from your record, and you will no longer be punished for point loss with detentions. In the meantime, you will nominate a staff supervisor, and points will go to that teacher's nominated house.

Harry blinked, they got to choose. They had a choice.

"McGonagall," murmured Fred after raising a quick privacy charm to the amusement of the teachers.

"She'll leave us alone," finished George

"What about the other heads?" Neville whispered back as she's the most hands-off.

"Yes, and this is nice," Hermione said, "but can we trust them to keep being supportive?"

"What do they want from this? What do they gain? It would be better just to keep being left to our own devices," Harry said, "It's safer being ignored."

"Hagrid," said the twins in unison.

"Yes," Harry said, "he's been really good to me."

"Isn't Hagrid's Dumbledore's man?" Neville asked.

Hermione nodded, "we'll just need to not mention anything we want secret from Dumbledore," she said cautiously.

"He can't always keep a secret, but it's not malicious. He's a good honest man" Harry said, "He's been on our side. He's grateful to Dumbledore, Dumbledore got him this job, and Hogwarts is Hagrid's home. But he's loyal to the school now more than the headmaster.

He loves Dumbledore but doesn't like some of the things he's done lately. Dumbledore also could have stopped his expulsion. Dumbledore knew that it wasn't Hagrid but didn't step in. It came out after the Chamber of Secrets debacle in second year. I think we can trust him." Harry finished, "really, he'd be brilliant at it. He cares a lot about those he considers his."

"So we're agreed?" Hermione asked, looking around at them.

The others nodded, and the charm was dispelled.

"Excellent charms work, Mr Weasley!" Professor Flitwick squeaked, very amused. To which Harry was grateful, he didn't need more detentions!

"Thanks, prof," said Fred with a mock salute.

"We'd like Hagrid to be our temporary Head of House," George said proudly, and Professor Snape made an odd sound as if trying not to snort.

"Might cheer the poor chap up too," added Fred.

Professor Flitwick looked at them knowingly but nodded, "we shall make it so."

Professor Snape looked about to say something, but Professor Sprout shooshed him and said, "very well dears."

"However," the stern potion master cut in, "your friend has not been a professor as long as we have. Nor is he as experienced in the matters of being Head of House."

"If there is anything you need that Hagrid is unable to assist you with we expect you or him to come to us." Professor Flitwick finished sternly.

"We're on your side, dears," added Professor sprout, "we'll make sure Hagrid knows we're here to help as well."

Harry just stared at them, what was going on?

Fred and George seemed a bit miffed that someone other then they were finishing each other's sentences for a change. Especially their teachers.

"We understand Professors," Hermione said happily, answering for all of them. It seemed that this incident seemed to have restored Hermione's faith, least some of it, in her teachers.

"Would you like to go down to see him now or wait till morning?" Professor Sprout said, "have you got somewhere to stay dears? Where on earth have you been sleeping? There are guest rooms, we've been trying to catch you to show you to them... but," she trailed off looking a bit put out.

"But you've been remarkably good at avoiding us." Professor Flitwick said

"We have somewhere to stay," said Hermione, and Harry was very grateful that they didn't push it.

"It may be best to wait until morning, to see Hagrid... he's been a bit... unwell," Hermione said diplomatically.

Severus snorted at that but said, "very well, if you're sure. One of us will escort you to Hagrid's at 9 o'clock tomorrow from breakfast."

"Thank you, sirs, ma'am," they chorused.

That night Harry went to join the others in the room of requirement, and they all slept around the fire in hammocks talking and whispering to each other until they fell asleep.

The following morning, after their run, and morning ablutions, they were met after breakfast in the kitchen by Professor Sprout.

"Good Morning," she said cheerfully as she led them down to the grounds.

"Professor?" Neville asked

"Yes, Mr Longbottom?"

"If we've nominated Professor Hagrid, and he was a Gryffindor, does that mean that as our nominated head, any points we earn go to Gryffindor?" He asked

"That is correct, Mr Longbottom." She said as they exited the castle.

Neville frowned slightly, but Fred elbowed him, "if they get the points, they also lose them."

"We'll just have to lose them, as fast as you lot can earn them!" George said cheerfully with a wicked grin.

Professor Sprout pretended not to have heard them, and turned to Harry, "Oh Mr Potter?"

"Yes, ma'am?" He asked with cautious curiosity.

"Mr Diggory mentioned he'd like a word with you but had been unable to find you."

Harry blinked, surprised and confused, what could Diggory want?

"Do you know why, ma'am?" He asked eventually.

"No dear, he wouldn't say just that it was important." She said

Harry frowned, wondering what on earth the boy could want and wondered suddenly if the boy expected that as Harry had told him the first task, he'd tell him the second one too.

Harry bit back a huff, "I'll go find him, ma'am."

"I wouldn't worry about my house, Mr Potter. I had a stern talking to them over the break. They should not be so harsh in their quick judgments now. They have been taught the error of their ways. Let me know if you need anything" she said, leaving them at Hagrid's door.

Harry frowned, watching her go, not sure what to make of all the sudden support.

The curtains were still drawn, and they could hear Fang barking as they approached, but at least there was smoke coming out of the chimney and Harry thought he could see light between a crack in the curtains.

Neville scowled at the shut curtains, "that skeeter woman is absolutely ghastly, but not a word of what she said matters. Hagrid shouldn't have to hideaway. He's always been really nice to me. has a knack for finding Trevor too, when he gets away from me."

"Your absolutely right Neville, he shouldn't need to hide," said Hermione, in a voice that Harry knew meant business, stalking over to his front door.

"Hagrid!" Hermione shouted, pounding on his front door. "Hagrid, that's enough! Open up! We need your help. We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can't let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you're just being -"

The door opened. Hermione said, "About tim-!" and then stopped, very suddenly, because she had found herself face-to-face, not with Hagrid, but with Professor Flitwick and one Luna Lovegood.

"Good Morning, you five" Professor Flitwick said, smiling, behind him, Luna waved.

"We... er, we wanted to see Hagrid," said Hermione in a rather small voice.

"Yes, I surmised as much," the Professor said, "why don't you join us, Ms Lovegood here had been interviewing me for her article in the Quibbler in response to skeeters. I suggested we chat here and get Hagrid's view as well. Why don't you come in?"

"Oh... um ... okay," Hermione said meekly.

The five of them went into the cabin; Fang launched himself at Harry the moment he entered, barking madly and trying to lick his ears. Harry fended off Fang with the twin's help and looked around, scratching the big dog's ears.

Hagrid was sitting at his table, where there were three large mugs of tea. He looked a real mess. His face was blotchy, his eyes swollen, and he had gone to the other extreme where his hair was concerned; far from trying to make it behave, it now looked like a wig of tangled wire.

"Hi, Hagrid," said Harry.

Hagrid looked up.

"'Lo, 'arry" he said in a very hoarse voice, "good o yer, for fillin' in for me. Thanks for the rabbits"

"That's what friends are for Hagrid," Harry said, crossing the cabin to give the giant a hug, and sat himself down next to him.

"More tea, I think," Luna said as Professor Flitwick closed the door. He flicked his wand and the chairs around the table stretched allowing them all to dit

"Did you, by any chance, hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid?" Professor Flitwick asked, "she made an excellent point to our argument. We half-wizards need to stick together. There will always be those that don't want to know us. But there are those too, who love us and treat us just the same, and do not care that we are more than just wizards." The half-goblin said.

Hagrid nodded and smiled weakly.

Hermione looked at Hagrid very sternly and said, "Hagrid, how could you possibly think we care what anything that... that..." she stumbled trying to find a sufficiently bad, but still teacher appropriate word, "that horrid woman about you?"

"Of course we want to know you!" Harry said hotly, thinking anything else is one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard Hagrid, you know better than that."

"I don't care," said Neville, "my family thought I was a squib, I don't care if your mum was a giant. You're really nice to me. That's all I care about."

Two fat tears leaked out of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes and fell slowly into his tangled beard.

"Come back and teach, Hagrid," said Neville said.

"We missed you," Fred said,

"haven't had as much fun as your blast-ended skrewts in ages," finished George.

"class just isn't the same without you. Much too tame" fred added

"They're right you know," Luna said, "Professor Grubbyplank hadn't even heard of Heliopaths when I asked her. And she looked quite put out when I asked about the Naffelbodes."

"Sod what other people think Hagrid," said Hermione.

"we miss you, Hagrid," Harry said quietly, "please stop hiding."

Hagrid gulped. More tears leaked out down his cheeks and into his tangled beard.

"Ar, ye righ', o' course - yeh're all righ'..." He said. More tears leaked out, but he wiped them away more forcefully and grabbed more mugs. And poured the tea.

"More tea, Filius?" He asked croakily pointing to the goblins cup.

"No thank you Hagrid, Ms Lovegood and I have a few more people to talk this morning for her article, I shall leave you in the capable hands of Ms Granger and friends. I look forward to seeing you up at lunch, however." Professor Flitwick said sternly.

Luna got up to follow him out, and Hagrid said, "we can talk about ye Heleopaths and Naffelbodes before class on Monday if you like."

She beamed at him and said, "I'll give you an early copy of the article to read. Let me know if anything needs changing."

Hagrid nodded wetly, sniffled and hugged Luna, then she and the Professor left them to it.

Hagrid sighed, "I bin stupi... my ol' dad woulda bin ashamed o' the way I've bin behavin'... Good friend Filius, good friend." he blew his nose again and then said, "'ave I shown you a picture of my old dad? Here..."

Hagrid got up, went over to his dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a picture of a short wizard with Hagrid's crinkled black eyes, beaming as he sat on top of Hagrid's shoulder. Hagrid was a good seven or eight feet tall, judging by the apple tree beside him, but his face was beardless, young, round, and smooth - he looked hardly older than eleven.

"Tha' was taken jus' after I got inter Hogwarts," Hagrid croaked. "Dad was dead chuffed ... thought I migh' not be a wizard, see, 'cos me mum ... well, anyway. 'Course, I never was great shakes at magic, really..."

"Being good at wand work doesn't make a good wizard Hagrid," Neville said in a quiet voice, "I can't always get my spells right, but I was offered an apprenticeship from Professor Sprout. If your not a good wizard because your not great at wand work then thither am I. And I'm one of the youngest at Hogwarts at the moment to get an apprenticeship offer.

Hagrid nodded slowly and said, "ye right o course. Dad would have agreed with you too. At least he never saw me expelled. Died, see, in my second year..."

"Dumbledore was the one who stuck up for me after Dad went. Got me the gamekeeper job... trusts people, he does. Or at least... saw an opportunity. I'm not so sure about 'im now. But he gave me a second chance..." Hagrid trailed off and then said, "he knows people can turn out okay even if their families weren'... well... all tha' respectable. But some don understands that.

There's some who'd always hold it against yeh... there's some who'd even pretend they just had big bones rather than stand up an' say - I am what I am, an' I'm not ashamed. 'Never be ashamed,' my ol' dad used ter say, 'there's some who'll hold it against you, but they're not worth botherin' with.' An' he was right. I've bin an idiot. I'm not botherin' with her no more, I promise yeh that. Big bones... I'll give her big bones."

Harry and Hermione looked at one another nervously, but Hagrid was still talking, apparently unaware that he had said anything odd.

"Yeh know wha, Harry?" he said, looking up from the photograph of his father, his eyes very bright, "when I firs' met you, you reminded me o' me a bit. Mum an' Dad gone, an' you was feelin' like yeh wouldn' fit in at Hogwarts, remember? Not sure yeh were really up to it... "

Harry nodded.

"an' now look at yeh, Harry! School champion!"

He looked at Harry for a moment and said very seriously, "Yeh know what I'd love. Harry? I'd love yeh ter win, I really would. It'd show 'em all... yeh don' have ter be pureblood ter do it. Yeh don have ter be ashamed of what yeh are. It'd show 'em nothin' matters, as long as yeh can do magic. How you doin' with that egg, Harry?"

"Solved it," Harry said with a grin, "not sure I'm going to win, but I'm not going to flunk it, or drown. I have the next task sorted."

Hagrid beamed at him, "Tha's my boy... you show 'em, Harry, you show 'em. Beat 'em all."

And Harry found, that when it was Hagrid saying it, he didn't mind being called 'my boy.' When it was Hagrid, he just felt warm and cared for.

"Oh, yeh said you needed my help when you were tryin' ta break me door down didn't yeh."

Hermione went scarlet but nodded.

"Yep," said Fred, "your the man of the hour Hagrid!" Finished George tying fangs ears in a knot on the top of his head. The boarhound just shook his big head, spraying the twins with slobber, making Neville laugh at them.

"We were un-housed, but now we've been declared houseless." Harry explained to Hagrid, "we were wondering if you'd be our nominated Head of House? Until we're re-sorted next year."

"I'd be delighted," Hagrid said gruffly, his beatle black eyes watering again.

"Now if your houseless have you lot got somewhere to stay?" He asked

"Yes," they chorused.

"Good, w'll you let me know if ye need anythin'," Hagrid said very seriously. "I'll see what I can do about all them detentions, 'arry."

And Harry knew they'd made the right choice.

After lunch, they all trouped down to the greenhouses to help out Professor Sprout. Neville had organised the previous nights Gillyweed to test out in exchange for a couple of hours work, but they hadn't had a proper chance the night before.

It was a pleasant afternoon really, working in the earth with the plants, even if the teenaged mandrakes were a bit temperamental. Professor Sprout was pleased with their work and slipped Harry another phial of gillyweed as they were leaving, tapping the side of her nose mischievously.

Harry grinned and followed his friends back to the castle.

They were on their way to wash up and do some homework when Harry ran into Goyle, Nott, Zabini and Greengrass.

"There is a rumour going around that you talked about blood politics with first years Potter and have darke leanings," Nott said sharply when Greengrass had put up a privacy ward.

Harry rolled his eyes, used to their ways by now, "I talked about blood as they asked why I didn't like the term mudblood."

Greengrass winced as if bemoaning the fact her sister had gotten caught using such crass language.

Harry pretended not to notice and said, "we've been working together long enough now, I think, that I know you know I mean no harm to you or your little siblings," he said pointedly, not mentioning the darke leanings, but also not denying it.

They winced, probably at being so transparent and Nott said probingly, "you're coming up from the dungeons a lot Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly and said, "so do you." Then added, "safer, besides, it's more comfortable than the lion's den."

Greengrass looked pointedly at Harry's robes and said, "indeed."

Harry snorted and dispelled the charm hiding his school crest, showing that he was houseless, "wondered when that rumour would leave the tower. I'm surprised they managed to keep it from the rumour mill."

"It leaked on the first day of term" Goyle, said, then "you've been tutoring Alice," Goyle said suddenly, "she likes you," he said sounding somewhat disbelieving.

Harry snorted, "yep, they were looking for help, and I wanted company. Beggars can't be choosers. Then I actually really enjoyed it, and they kept turning up so for homework help so..." He trailed off.

"They're good kids." Nott said.

Harry nodded, "they are."

"You're not bad Potter," Goyle said.

Harry smirked, "you lot aren't so bad yourself."

He thought about it a minute then said, "Look we're putting together a study group for O. . My friends and I."

Gesturing to his friends, he said, "we're doing duelling and defence, and as some of us are taking O. out of school, we're studying together."

Greengrass made a 'get to the point,' gesture and he said "we're taking extras. You're taking extras, why don't you lot join us. We can help each other out, get to know each other, so you don't have to worry I'm going to corrupt the snakelets."

Nott snorted at the name but said, "yeah okay. I'm nearly flunking Herbology anyway I could use a hand if you don't mind Longbottom."

Neville nodded, "sure."

"You in our nest too?" Goyle asked to the other ex-Gryffindors.

Hermione blinked, then shook her head as Fred said, "Nah, we found cooler digs."

"Might show you sometime," continued George, "if your promise not to be as prat-ish as Malfoy."

The Slytherins looked at he ex-Gryffindor appraisingly then Greengrass said, "no-one is as prat-ish as Malfoy!"

And so they took the Slytherins up to the Room of Requirement. Once they'd gotten over their awe at the room, the lot of them knuckled down to bang out their homework and started working out who was doing what O. and what their schedule would look like.

They ended up spending all Sunday afternoon up there, studying together and working on O. . And some Slytherin lessons too.

Hermione sat in on them, and Neville helped with some of the pureblood etiquette and culture as did, surprisingly, Fred and George.

"Aunt Muriel taught Bill," Fred explained,

"Who's the heir." finished George,

"he and Charlie were always joined at the hip before they took international jobs,"

"he and Charlie thought us." George finished.

When the Slytherins learnt they were did duelling (fighting) on Sunday afternoons, they insisted on joining that too. Surprisingly Zabini was rather good at it and helped Harry with some of the physical sides of duelling (fighting). He was a whizz at knife throwing and knife fighting, and he even managed to show Harry a trick or two. Though Harry found he fought a bit more fairly and lacked the savage ruthlessness that was found in fighting for your life on the streets.

The lot of them ended up teaching each other all sorts of nifty spells and ended up working through dinner and losing track of time.

It was only when Dobby popped in with a plate of sandwiches that Harry realised he had only 10 minutes to get to his detention. He grabbed a couple of sandwiches, dashed out of the room, pulling his invisibility cloak on as he went and raced down to the dungeons shoving the sandwiches in his mouth as he went.

END NOTES:

So I can't remember if Neville Fred and George take Care of Magical Creatures, but they do now, because I said so and it's suits me ;P


	67. Chapter 67 Detention Revelations

Harry managed to finish his sandwiches, be on time, and not to be seen. It did not help stop the dread in his stomach though at the thought of detention with Professor Snape. He wished he's skipped the sandwiches actually. He'd scoffed them down on the way to detention, worried about going hungry, but he wished he hadn't now. With how anxious he was, they were sitting in his gut now, making him feel a bit sick.

But when he cautiously entered through the open classroom door, Professor Snape just gestured for Harry to have a seat.

Harry cautiously sat, flinching when the Professor flicked his wand. But Harry just felt strong wards wash over him. They felt different from Hogwarts, warm magic, cooler and sharper, fierce. He shivered.

Snape glanced at him sharply, unreadable expression but just said,

"now Hagrid has come to me in regards to the matter of your detentions. Though you are no longer un-housed, you will still have to serve out the remainders of your detention, unfortunately."

"I didn't earn those detentions sir," Harry said irritably trying to force some steel into his spine. He was managing them, but it was really tiring. Not to mention unfair. And there was no way he would have managed his homework and detentions without the timer turner.

Harry cringed a little as Professor Snape looked at him for a long moment. He was sure he going to get yelled but...

But to Harry's surprise, he just agreed and said, "No. you did not."

Harry gaped at the man.

"Don't gawp Mr Potter," the Professor snapped, "it's unbecoming."

Harry blinked and thought he sensed a flicker of amusement coming from Professor Snape, but shut his mouth quickly.

Professor Snape continued, "you will continue to serve out your detentions, as we cannot override them-"

"I didn't really expect you t-" Harry stammered defensively, only to be cut off.

"Be quiet," Professor Snape said before continuing, "as I was saying. We cannot override detentions given by other teachers when sanctioned by out illustrious Headmaster, and Deputy."

Harry gaped at Professor Snape, turning his sneer on someone other than him for a change. It was actually pretty funny.

Professor Snape caught it however and said, "what did I say about gawping Potter?" Harry snapped his mouth shut again and leant back a bit away from the man.

Professor Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, but continued, "But we can change who conducts them and as lease make them into some use for you." Harry glanced up sharply.

"But for goddesses sake, Potter don't be an imbecile and skip them. Use your brain for a change!"

Harry flinched but clenched his jaw. The man had a point, but he didn't want to just sit and take something so unfair.

Professor Snape sighed.

"For goddesses sake Potter, think!" He snapped, and Harry flinched but to his surprise sensed exasperation coming from the man, not anger.

"I know you have a brain in that skull of yours. You are an underage student with no parent or guardian to stand up for you. You have been slandered in the paper, and the rumour mill and the most you could achieve now at best is an official complain to the board of governors that will be dismissed and at worst you will get more detention and disciplinary actions. It's not fair, but that's the way it is.

They think they are in the right. Even if they are not, you are a child. No don't argue with me, you know that's how they will see it." He said, catching something on Harry's face.

"You do not have the power to make them listen. That is currently a fact. Think. Fighting a losing battle will only get you into worse trouble and get you a reputation of a trouble maker. It will only make your life harder, you foolish boy."

Harry flinched and snapped "don't call me that... please sir," he added hurriedly hunching his shoulders and hoping he wasn't about to be hit.

Professor Snape clenched his jaw and looked up at the ceiling as if asking the goddess for patience.

"You can call me anything else, moron, dunderhead, idiotic child, anything you like and as creatively insulting as you like," Harry mumbled quickly, "but please sir, please refrain from calling me boy or freak. They are both rather unpleasant. Same with Potter really."

Snape held back a wince and looked at him inscrutably for a moment before nodding, "I think you mentioned that before. I shall refrain from calling you, boy, and I will continually never call you, freak! Your relatives are despicable dunderheads Potter don't listen to a word they say. Petunia always was a spiteful bitch."

Harry stared at him as if he'd never seen the man before, but the Professor just said, "what did I say about gawping?" Harry shut his mouth hurriedly as the man continued, "Filius and I are already looking into your relatives."

Harry winced and while he could feel the colour draining from his face (people pocking their noses in at the Dursley's never ended well for him) at but was carefully keeping his face blank. It didn't matter, he never had any intention of going back.

The man just raised an eyebrow at him but went on, "your name is, however, Potter, I cannot call you anything else, but I can avoid naming you at all if you would prefer."

"Thank you sir," Harry said, slumping in relief, he'd not expected his request to be heard or even respected. It was a nice, if odd, change.

"Now getting back to my point on detentions." He said, and Harry slumped a little.

"There is nothing you can do, child." Professor Snape said, his voice less irritated now. "Accept that and move on."

Harry glanced up quickly, Snape had actually listened. He couldn't help but smile, maybe Bill was right to have a little faith in the Professor?

But the man was still talking, "Go with it for now. Even if it is unfair and wait until there is something you can do. The heads of house and I are doing what we can.

The smartest thing now is to appear to go along with it, and not cause undue attention to yourself that will just get you extra trouble. Do you understand?" he asked, piercing Harry with a sharp look.

Harry clenched his jaw but nodded.

Professor Snape was right. He hated it. It was unfair, but he was right.

_Fuck_.

Still though.

"It's not fair," he said quietly feeling defeated, "I didn't break the rules."

Professor Snape actually rolled his eyes and sighed, "life isn't fair."

Harry flinched, but Professor Snape went on, though his voice was perhaps softer, "I am sure you've worked out by now that life isn't fair, child. We don't have to like it, but sometimes we just have to acknowledge that and get on with it as best we can."

"Yes sir," Harry said in a small voice, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Harry knew the man was right in this too. He didn't like that either, but he knew he was right.

"Now, Tuesday and Thursday you will still have runes and arithmancy lessons with Professors Babbling and Vector as normal. It will just be in the guise of detention. We have spoken to them about it, they 'need help cleaning their classrooms and marking homework.'"

Harry glanced up sharply, surprised. That was unusually reasonable of. He'd been worried about falling behind, and it was the perfect cover.

"I will take over Monday, and Wednesday nights, Filius, Saturday and Friday nights, and your stand in Head of House, will take Sundays." Professor Snape continued.

Harry tensed, two nights a week in detention with Professor Snape. But at least he no longer had to clean with Fitch in his blind spot muttering threats and reminding Harry so much of his uncle that he'd started to have nightmares about Filch and Vernon ganging up on him. He shivered at the memory and tried to refocus.

He wondered when they expected him to get his homework done! Sure he had a time turner, but they didn't know that!

He waited for the catch in this, but Professor Snape just stared at him.

Oh, Harry thought, he was expected to say something. Probably thank the man for this favour he thought miserably.

Still not understanding why they were helping, he asked, "thank you, sir, but why are you doing this?"

Professor Snape frowned as if Harry has just said something ridiculous, "don't thank me. We will be teaching you how to not end up dead. It's about time someone helped you stay alive." He said bluntly, "if you must have detention for something so asinine, it may as well teach you something useful."

Harry stared, Bill was right, Professor Snape did seem intent on actually teaching him something. How strange... How long would this startling phenomenon last? He'd make the most of it, but he'd not get used to it or let his guard down.

"We will be starting with remedial potions. Right from the beginning to see if we can sort out what's tripped you up now that I know what the issue is."

"Tell anyone who asks your doing detention resorting my ingredients cupboard. Lord knows it needs it, I think something is actually growing back there." He sighed and was glad when he thought he caught a brief look of amusement across the boys face.

"Filius will be tutoring you as well, in other useful bits and pieces, working around what Mr Weasley is tutoring you in. Don't think he broke your confidence," Professor Snape drawled.

"I guessed and asked him to remove things he was already covering from the list we drew up for you." He went on.

"Oh," said Harry in a small voice.

"Oh." Professor Snape repeated, "now, of course, Filius cannot give you extra help during the tournament despite you being at a disadvantage, and you do not need Remedial charms-"

Harry winced at what he perceived to be a dig at his shoddy potions work.

"-But I'm sure his detentions will be useful. Especially if what my snakes tell me about, you're joining them in extra O. , is true," Professor Snape continued piercing Harry with another intense stare.

"I won't know what you-" Harry stuttered panicking a bit.

"Don't lie, I am not a fool. I know everything that goes on in my dungeons just like I know you tutor the first and second-year snakelets as well as the occasional third year. They come to you for homework help," Professor Snape said, "I also know that my fourth years have been befriending you in the guise of studying."

Harry froze not sure what to say to that. He'd thought it was the other way around, studying in the guise of friendship... but they got on okay, and it was mutually beneficial so...

Professor Snape continued, "like I said, you will find these detentions invaluable in assisting you this year and in your future plans. You have..." Professor Snape made a noise in the back of his throat and sounded pained for a moment then said, "been let down by your teachers in the past. It will not happen again but do not waste this opportunity. I expect you to make the most of it and work hard. Is that understood?"

Harry just nodded, "yes sir," not sure what to make of this new Professor Snape, who's unpredictability, and bizarreness was just as worrying.

"Good, do keep in mind that you must keep up the pretence of these detentions being miserable. Do you understand me? Can you do that?"

Harry, caught what Professor Snape was actually saying, there were too many risks if any know thought Harry was enjoying it or that Professor Snape was helping him, he had to keep up the pretence of punishment.

"Thank you, sir, I appreciate it", Harry said with a nod, still wondering why on earth Professor Snape was helping him.

"As for your stand in Head, Hagrid has, remarkably, been surprisingly tight-lipped about what you'll be doing with him." Professor Snape said, aiming a piercing look at Harry.

Harry smiled inwardly, knowing exactly what they'd be doing in the forest, what they always did, but said nothing other than, "not dying, sir."

"Quite," Professor Snape said with another raised eyebrow, though Harry thought he felt another hint of amusement from the man.

"Now have you finished your homework for the day?"

Harry blinked in surprise, "yes sir,"

"Very well, then. I hope it is adequately done and not rushed," he shot Harry a piercing stare. Harry fought back the urge to sink in on himself but made himself vocalise an answer, "yes sir, I did it properly."

"Good," Professor Snape said, "as detentions are usually from after dinner until curfew, we will give you some time to work on your homework before you are given extra things to study. We do not want you falling behind now you've managed to catch up."

The Professor shot him another piercing look as if to say something out of character like, tell us if you fall behind or need help.

Harry just stared but said, "yes, sir," to the unspoken question.

"Good, now before we can move on to potions and your tutoring in…"

"Not dying?" Harry offered when the man paused.

"quite," he said, "now there are are few things that need to be addressed."

Harry felt sick. What had he done this time? But Professor Snape surprised him.

"When was the last time you had a healer check you over?"

"Yule," Harry said, so surprised at the question that he didn't answer with anything but honesty.

"So you are healthy or on your way to it?" The Professor pressed, "any issues are being taken care of?"

"Yes, sir," he said, still thoroughly flummoxed.

"Are you still on potions?"

"Yes, sir."

"Give me the prescription, and I will brew them for you, it will save you having to buy them from an apothecary."

Harry just looked at him, "Master Riptooth won't like that I don't think..." He said dubiously, both because Riptooth wouldn't, and he also wasn't sure he trusted potions from Snape yet...

Recognition glinted in Snape's eyes, "ah, Healer Riptooth, no he would not. But he is competent. If he is unable to continue to supply what potions you need, have him send me the details and I will brew them. Understood?"

Harry nodded warily wondering what the catch was. He was not sure how he felt about this, or what Snape's game was. Harry wasn't sure he'd want to take any potions not brewed by Riptooth. He certainly wasn't sure he'd trust any Snape gave him.

"Have you been checked over at properly at Gringotts?"

Harry felt as if someone had tipped a bucket of ice water over him.

_Fuck_

Was Snape checking on him? For Dumbledore? Was he trying to see how much damage harry had undone?

When Harry looked at him warily with narrowed, suspicious eyes and Professor Snape said, "Mr Weasley mentioned you'd had blocks removed. Have you been fully looked over?"

The mention of Bill seemed to cut through the panic clawing at harry's insides. Bill liked Snape, Bill trusted Snape. Harry trusted bill. So Snape theoretically wasn't asking to help Dumbledore. Snape was meant to be on his side. Bill trusted him, and Harry trusted Bill.

And his mother had trusted Snape, and Snape had not been a supporter of Dumbledore then. Dumbledore has screwed Snape over too.

Still...

"You going to tell Dumbledore?" He asked warily.

"No," Snape said simply, and Harry felt out with this magic and felt that Snape was honest with him, despite that he looked at him for a long time trying to decide of he could be trusted.

"Spells and potions," Harry said quietly, "they've been removed now.

Snape swore softly.

"Were you... as well?" Harry asked as an idea lurking in the back of his mind.

"Later," Snape dismissed, "did they clear you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, and you're aware of precautions to take to avoid being spelled or potioned again?"

"Yes, sir."

"And have you enough coin for necessary supplies, both for school, and your homework and clothing?"

"I manage," Harry said shortly, what was with all the questions? When did Snape care?

Professor Snape looked at him sharply for a long moment but nodded.

"Good, the basics are taken care of, for the moment. If that stops being the case, I expect you to tell someone, Hagrid or Mr Weasley or one of us Heads. understood."

Harry cautiously nodded because that was what the man wanted, not because he thought he actually would.

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes as if sensing this plication but said, "Now if you homework is done, set up your station. We will be going over ingredient preparation." His tone was all hard business again.

Sometime later, Harry was preparing simple ingredients under Professor Snape's guidance. It was humiliating, he thought, that he was still fucking it up. And he knew he wasn't the only one getting irritated.

Goddess, Professor Snape must think him an utter moron. Maybe he was. It shouldn't be this hard. Professor Snape had explained that it was all about the amount of magic he let flow into the ingredients while preparing them. With people that could not sense their magic, or could not sense magic in other things, it happened automatically. But because Harry could now feel it, it didn't happen automatically, and he had to learn to control it and channel it.

Harry had then been preparing a range of ingredients over and over again, trying to find the balance. But he all seemed to do was either use too much magic activating the ingredients or not enough.

Harry just couldn't seem to get it right. And they were both about to pull their hair out. Harry wasn't sure what he was doing wrong, and Professor Snape, who instinctively understood it and had always had no issue with it didn't seem to understand how Harry didn't understand.

Finally, Harry snapped, "I don't get it! How do I know when it's too much!"

His eyes widened, as he realised what he'd done, and he shrank back in his chair.

_Shit_.

Professor Snape looked about ready to explode for a fraction of a second before, to Harry's utter shock, clenched his jaw hard for a long moment before finally saying, "you need just enough to wake the ingredients, to activate their own internal magic. You want to work with their own magic, not against it or replacing it. You're too heavy-handed, or too stingy! Consider them dormant until you coax their power awake with your own."

"Oh," Harry said, his eyes widening. He picked up another shrivel fig peering at it closely, trying to sense it's magic and made sense of what Professor Snape was saying. It was like what his mum's books had said, but more to the point.

It took him a few more goes, but soon Harry had figured it out and showed his ingredients to Professor Snape.

"Yes," the Professor said, sounding surprisingly pleased "good, now do it again, and practice it until you don't need to think about it."

Soon the Professor had a neat pile of flawlessly prepared ingredients to use in his next batch of potions for the Hospital wing.

Harry was let out, miraculously, before curfew, his mind reeling under the weight of so many revelations.

He hadn't been yelled at. Professor Snape had almost been nice. He seemed to want to help Harry. And he was let out at a decent hour so he might even have time to do some work on a few of his side projects before he and Hermione were scheduled to use the time-turner! He owed Bill an apology. Despite trusting the man, he'd still had his doubts about Professor Snape actually wanting to help him. Bill it seemed, had been right.

He still didn't trust Professor Snape, but it washed away any lingering doubts Harry had about trusting Bill, even if he and Charlie were adults.

_Maybe this is what family was like_, he wondered.

It was a burning in his chest that told him he could not bear to lose any of them, that said he could trust Bill, Charlie and Hermione to the ends of the earth and if anyone hurt his little group of people, he'd burn the world to the ground.

It was a big feeling, Harry thought as he shakily unlocked his wards enough to crawl into his cupboard and curled up on his nest of blankets. It left him feeling shaky and unsure. As if his whole world had shifted.


	68. Chapter 68 A Matter of Trust

A second chapter today, because I'm feeling generous and as a thank you for all your lovely reviews and support! They make my day and I appreciate each one.

Also the next chapter is fun... and I'm a impatient for it.

See the end for more notes

0o0o0o0

Much later, Harry was returning to his cupboard to sleep after having used the time turner. Despite scheduling meals, breaks and sleep, he was always glad to get back into bed for another few hours once they'd finished their extra day. He just hoped he'd be able to turn his head off long enough to get some actual sleep this time.

His mind hadn't stopped turning the recent revelation of trust over in his mind. And it was keeping him from relaxing enough to go to sleep.

He let himself into his cupboard and got changed into his pyjamas, smiling when he saw the big steaming mug of Hot chocolate Winky had left there for him. Downing his night time potions, and casting a few quick detection charms over it, just to be sure, he took a long pull.

Winky made the best hot chocolate. Sweet, rich and wonderful. He was pretty sure it was a lot of real melted chocolate with just a little bit of milk added.

He snuggled into his nest of blankets, and he felt some of the restless energy drain out of him, now he was behind his wards.

He took another sip of the hot chocolate and grabbed one of his mum's big woollen jumpers from his nest of blankets. It dwarfed him, but was soft and warm and smelt faintly of roses. He'd found it in the back of her wardrobe. It was very comfortable.

He was really tired and just wanted to sleep, but his mind would stop racing. Detention with Snape had been odd. He'd been decent. He almost seemed concerned! Maybe Bill's faith in the man wasn't misplaced.

The detention with Snape was one of thing, but mostly, the thing that was really rattling around in his brain was the idea of trust. The idea of trust itself, he couldn't seem to let it go.

It was mind-boggling.

He hadn't been able to stop thinking about trust since he'd talked to Bill. Or since Hermione had said she was with him no matter what. Or really since Charlie had been there for him after the first task.

Ever since realising, he actually trusted them. He couldn't get that epiphany out of his head. It felt huge, and he couldn't seem to let it go. It kept repeating like a broken record in his mind. Who he trusted and why, and which moment had proven to him that he could trust them. Especially since Bill's help with Professor Snape really had worked. Today's detention had helped. He had learnt a lot.

He could trust them. Three people, he trusted completely without a doubt. Charlie, Hermione and Bill.

It shouldn't matter, but it did. Normal people trusted their friends and family like it was nothing. But to Harry, it felt big. It felt huge.

He'd never had anyone to trust before. Not really.

He trusted Hermione, who had walked through hell with him.

Charlie, who had held him after the first task and had listened to him.

Bill, who had been there for him over the yule break, through that ritual, who hadn't yelled at him when he fell asleep on him, who's advice was constantly sound.

Fred and George who set Peeves on their own brother for him, and left Gryffindor for him, knowing they'd get their mothers howler and further disappointment.

Neville, who risked his grandmother's wrath for him when he chose to leave Gryffindor for him.

He _trusted_ them. There was nothing he wouldn't do for them, he realised. They were _his_ now. His people. They mattered. He'd do anything for them. To keep them safe and happy.

And it was bothering him, he couldn't stop thinking about it. He'd never trusted before. Not really. He took another long drag of his hot chocolate and bit his lip, then pulled out his mirror before he lost his nerve.

"Hey, Harry" Charlie said, when he answered it. He looked tired but seemed to still have been up.

"Did I wake you?" Harry asked quickly.

"Nah, just got off shift, was getting ready for bed, what's up Harry love?"

"I trust you, Charlie," Harry said the words pouring out of his mouth.

Charlie blinked.

"I trust you, Charlie," Harry repeated as if the words could hurt, "you and Bill and Hermione. And Fred and George and Neville. I trust you. I've never trusted anyone."

"ah..." Charlie said, looking achingly sad for a moment as if he understood.

"I trust you. And Bill. It scares me." Harry said, "I... I fell asleep on him the other day, and he didn't yell at me for it. He didn't care that I'd just wasted two hours of his time sleeping on him! Who does that?"

"Friends" Charlie cut in with a snort, "that's what you do for friends."

"He gave me advice, and it turned out okay." Harry continued on, "he was here all winter break to help me. He came to Gringotts with me and helped with the ritual.

You let me cry on you after the task, and you comforted me. You didn't just kick me out. You let me sleep on you, and you listened to me and gave me honest advice when you could have told me to fuck off."

"aw, kiddo, no." Charlie said, "I couldn't do that to you, love, I'm not going to turn you away, neither will Bill."

"I know that," Harry said sounding a bit shell shocked, "I _know_ that."

Charlie's face softened in understanding, "that's okay, love, you're allowed to trust."

"It feels big," Harry admitted quietly, then after a moment said "I don't understand. I'm not used to caring or trusting. It feels dangerous. You're mine now. It frightens me, I'd-"

His voice seemed to catch and choke. But Charlie just seemed content to wait patiently for him to continue.

"I'd kill for you guys Charlie, to keep you guys safe. I've never felt that for anyone. You and Bill. And the twins, they taught me to swim. Did they tell you? They didn't once stare or question my scars, they didn't once laugh for my fear of water. They just goofed off until I was too busy laughing at them to be scared. They left Gryffindor for me despite knowing they'd get a howler, they set peeves on Ron for me. They had my back despite everything. And Hermione's and Neville. It means everything to me. Everything.

You're mine now, I'm not letting that go. You're all my people. And I'm not letting that go. You're _family_. I think. Is what family feels like Charlie?" Harry said awe and fear in his face, "it feels like... do you understand Charlie? It feels..."

Charlie nodded, "it's nothing less than complete trust and devotion," he said, a strange quality in his voice, as if knowing exactly what Harry meant, "I know," he said quietly.

"Yes," Harry said desperately, "I'd kill and die for you, I'd go up against anyone that tried to harm or hurt you guys without a single regret. Because you're mine. Not my possession-"

"But your people," Charlie finished, understanding, "family."

"Yes!" Harry breathed, slumping in relief that Charlie understood.

"That's power, Charlie. I went from having no one to having 6 people that I can trust without a shadow of a doubt. I'd burn the world down for my family. If any of you asked me to. I'd do it without a care, without regret, but I trust that you guys won't ask me to. I trust you.

It's terrifying. Is that what love is Charlie? Giving someone the power to destroy you but trusting them not too? Knowing they wouldn't even think about it. Is that love, Charlie?

"I..." Charlie hesitated as if trying to find the words, "yes. That's what love is. Love and trust, that's what makes family, darling. Love and trust. It's not who you share blood with, it's the people who have your back and care no matter what through thick and thin, who would do anything for you and vice versa."

"Family," Harry said, sounding small and awed.

"Family," Charlie said, "this is family."

"Family is more than blood", Harry said.

"Yes, your relatives are who you share blood with," Charlie explained as if he were talking about something sacred, "but your family are those you share your heart with."

"Yeah, yeah it is. Sorry to wake you." Harry said softly.

"Don't be, you didn't, I'm glad you called."

"I miss you," Harry said quietly.

"I miss you too, love", said Charlie with a yawn, "I'll see if I can get time off to come to one of your tasks. Or if I can come to visit you over the break, and Bill."

Harry beamed, snuggling down into his blankets, and trying to hide a yawn "you make good family Charlie, you and Bill. And the others. I think I like having Family, Charlie."

Charlie smiled softly, "so do you, Harry, so do you."

Harry smiled and took another long pull his hot chocolate, a yawn escaping him.

Charlie muffled his own yawn and shifted so he could lie back down and still see the mirror.

"I should let you go back to sleep," Harry said.

"You should get on that yourself," Charlie said with a tired smile as Harry drained the last of his hot chocolate and put the large mug on the shelf.

"Sleep well, Harry love, I'll get Bill to give you a hug for me when he sees you next."

Harry hummed sleepily, "night Charlie," he said before putting the mirror down and snuggling into his blankets and pillows.

Warm, full and sleepy, this time, Harry had no trouble drifted off into a thankfully, dream free sleep.

The following week passed in a rather frantic but well-scheduled blur.

Harry and Hermione put in a formal complaint to the Board about the unearned detentions. It was, of course, ignored, as Professor Snape had said, but they did have a copy of it to add to Rodgrip's pile of evidence against Dumbledore.

They also started working on a proposal to get the tradition of students un-housing each other disbanded. It was far too harsh a punishment and too easily abused. They didn't need such an archaic system anymore. They hadn't heard back yet. But they felt positive about it. And Harry felt better about the whole thing just by having done something.

Peeves was still causing havoc.

He got into the greenhouses again, and on Tuesday morning was flinging dragon dung around the entrance hall.

Harry was lucky enough to catch Professor Sprout tearing Peeves a new one for it.

"Peeves! this is the second tie this week!" She hollered looking extremely irate to the amusement of the snickering poltergeist who was now juggling balls of dragon dung over her head.

"its a complete waist of premium dung! At least use the cheep shit!" She finished still yelling at the top of her lungs but making no move to actually take the dragon dung back off him.

The poltergeist actually stopped juggling, letting the dung fall to the floor with a wet splat and turned to look at her. He cocked his head to the side for a moment, giving her a narrowed eyed shrewd look, then blew a raspberry at her and zoomed off.

Harry who was still lurking behind a tapestry watching had to restrain a snicker as Professor Sprout shook her head muttering about a 'waste of good dung!

Sure enough later that week when Peeves stuffed dung into all of Professor Dumbledores socks it was the cheep dung fertiliser not the expensive kind.

"You couldn't have asked him to not use dung at all?" Professor McGonagall said with an irritated yet amused huff, turning to Professor Sprout who was looking far too pleased.

"No," Professor Sprout said frankly, "he'd do it anyway, at least this time he wasted the cheap stuff instead! My venomous tentacle won't tolerate anything less that premium, the mandrakes too! That stuff is expensive."

This particular story had them all roaring with laughter Harry shared it over breakfast. But that wasn't all peeves was doing, to the Headmaster. He tossed all his brightly coloured robs into the lake one morning, set off dungbombs in his office and on his chair in the great hall. The Headmaster seemed to take a lot of it in annoyingly good cheer from what Harry had heard, but either way, the Poltergeist was causing havoc. To Harry and his friend's delight, he was causing trouble for McGonagall too, to the woman fury. Rumour had it that he had filled her office with catnip and she had missed a whole afternoon of classes.

The Gryffindors too, Harry heard were still having trouble. Peeves had taken to jumping out of behind the toilets and scaring the Gryffindors when doing their morning business. He'd also taken to putting dungbombs, somehow, into the showerheads, which were now always icy cold thanks to the house elves, Harry was pleased and touched to discover.

According to Dobby, it was not just the water they were having issues with. The common room was just dusty enough to cause sneezing but not enough to appear dirty. The sheets were all clean but had been left in closets just long enough to smell a little musty. And the issue of hot drinks going cold were getting persistent, all drinks were now either too spicy, so salty or too sweet. It had now escalated, to the puzzlement of everyone.

The Gryffindors were also finding that their meals were too salty or too spicy. Nothing concrete, but enough to be annoying and unpleasant. The deserts were all slightly cold when they were meant to be hot, and all slightly bitter.

It was nothing to complain about but enough to be unpleasant. Either way, it wasn't pleasant for Harry's ex-house and something Harry watched with a quiet, vicious satisfaction.

Especially when no mater what McGonagall or the Gryffindors did, they could not seem to work out or fix the issue.

Harry and Hermione were still using the time turner every night, occasionally Fred and George would join them and corner themselves off on once side of the chamber and make things bang, smoke and explode. Or alternatively would crow in triumph when something worked well.

Harry was still in the forest with Firenze or Hagrid most mornings at dawn. He'd join the man in his duties, and they'd share an early breakfast and tea.

When Harry wasn't in the forest with Hagrid in the mornings, he was with the centaurs, who also had taken to feeding Harry. Centaur cooking was different from what he was used to but no less delicious or filling. And it was just as well because keeping up with the centaurs when they were moving through the forest was hard work.

They had four legs and could move incredibly swiftly through the forest. Harry was improving in leaps and bounds, but he still had to work to keep up with the larger, faster beings.

He had however finally been declared by Bane, to be good enough at archery to start learning how to hunt with the heard. This did not actually involve hunting with the heard at all, not yet. But he was taught by various herd members how to track, solo and group hunting techniques and how to deal with game. He learnt about butchering and using every part of the animal. It was important not to waste anything, and to treat the animal with respect. He also learnt how to make leather.

After his early morning in the forest, he was still going for a run or a swim with his friends before a proper breakfast. His swimming was improving, and he was getting better at not freezing in the lake. He'd worked out that if he let him magic build and sit under the surface of his skin, he could keep himself warm. It was hard at first, but the more he worked on it, the better he got.

It did require a lot of energy though and often left him ravenous or rather tired afterwards. It was getting easier, though. And he thought that if he kept practising by the time he got to the task, he'd be able to keep himself warm in the freezing lake for an hour or two.

Classes were passing swiftly. McGonagall was ignoring him, and Sprout had been correct in that the Hufflepuffs were treating him like a human being again, as were the Ravenclaws. In fact, Harry had had a number of apologies, sincere ones from a number of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. So had Luna come to that, who had previously had a lot of trouble with bullying.

Really it was only the Gryffindor harassing him now and some of the Slytherins. Though the Slytherins had largely stopped bothering him since he'd befriending some of his peers and tutoring the younger years.

Except for Malfoy. Malfoy was still a pain if he caught Harry, but he rarely did these days as Harry was a master of getting around the castle unseen now.

Harry still had a meeting with Professors Babbling and Vector in the evenings, and indeed kept up the guise of detention by keeping him later after their lesson to allow him to finish homework while they did marking. They were both very pleased with his progress in their subjects. And surprised with how well he was tacking to it. It was nice to hear honest praise from his teachers.

But even with the time turner, he was getting very busy.

He'd taken to doing homework in the kitchen at lunch, and studying in the room of requirement after classes with his friends. Along with all his classes and his extra subjects, he had a lot of work to do even with the time turner. Luckily Harry and his friends were nearly always joined after school by the Slytherins now. The Slytherins were slowly becoming counted as part of their circle.

Between the Slytherins, Neville, Fred and George, as well as the assignments sent to and from a few of the pureblood's tutors it was soon proclaimed that they were well on schedule to be more than ready by the end of the year to take the planned O. .

They were most definitely sitting Politics, Etiquette and Culture as well as Estate Management over the summer. And Harry and Hermione were hoping to do the language OWL as well if they could master enough languages. They had the help of the potions, but they'd still need to practice with the languages enough to hold a conversation, write an essay and answer questions on a passage they had read.

Harry kept meeting with his snakelets, too, in one of the lower dungeons before tea a few nights a week, to help them with their homework. Harry now had all the first and second years in his little study group, and most of the third years and the study sessions were getting kind of big and awkward in the dungeon classrooms.

After dinner, Harry went to his detentions.

He'd tried every day that week to get McGonagall to rescind her decision. But she was still stubbornly claiming that he had broken the rules and had earned the detentions.

Luckily for him, they weren't really detentions now. Which made it a bit better. It was more like having to sit in his teacher's office to do his homework, and occasionally be offered a tutor. He still didn't like it, but it was more useful, and better than real detentions. Even if it was still unfair.

Detentions with Hagrid were just business as usual in the forest. This Harry didn't have to pretend to hate it as most assumed he was nuts for spending time willingly in the Forbidden Forest, and they assumed he hated it.

But Harry really enjoyed it. He was either with Hagrid or the centaurs. Hagrid was, at Harry's request, teaching him more and more how to handle different plants and animals, in case their hunch was right and the last task was some kind of obstacle course, with different beasts in it.

As for Professor Snape... He was still harsh and strict, but he mostly left him alone. Which suited Harry just fine.

Harry had heeded the man's warning to not be caught in the dungeons. Especially when Nott had pointed out how often he was seen in the dungeons. Harry didn't want trouble from the older Slytherins, or Malfoy who still hated him. And he did not want more trouble from Professor Snape either.

Harry was careful to use the cloak, and the multitude of secret passageways he now had access to. He was very rarely caught unaware, especially with Hogwarts on his side. He wasn't sure if Professor Snape noticed that Harry was obeying his instructions, but he didn't really care. One less thing for Professor Snape to pick on was always a good thing.

Professor Snape's 'detentions', he didn't have to pretend to dread, as he was still genuinely dreading being around the man, never knowing what to expect. But Professor Snape just continued to get Harry to finish off his homework for the first half of the detention then continued with Remedial Potions in the second half.

He didn't mention their conversation at all. In fact, he almost acted as if it hadn't happened. Harry wasn't sure whether to be relieved or terrified at this new reasonable behaviour.

They had moved on from ingredients prep; showing Harry how to manage and judge the flow on magic when placing ingredients in the cauldron and stirring it.

They were slowly moving on to brewing and then on to progressively harder potions. To Harry's enormous relief. He was finally not feeling constantly like a baby or a dunderhead. It helped that he had his mother's potions books to study. They were a wealth of information and know he understood what she meant by feeling; they were invaluable. Particularly when he started going through her early potions notes and textbooks.

Harry was still anxious around the man and didn't trust him further than he could throw him (not that he was stupid enough to get that close), but the man genuinely seemed determined to actually teach him.

It was odd, but Harry would take what he could get.

It had taken him a while, but Harry was starting to get the hang of the flow of magic in potions.

Finally.

Professor Flitwick's detentions too were half finishing his homework, the other half, once his homework was done, was writing lines. Which he could easily pretend to dread and find tediously boring. But instead of just 'I will respect my betters,' or similarly expected rot; Professor Flitwick gave Harry passages out of interesting textbooks to copy. It was deceptively brilliant.

The topics he had Harry currently taking notes on were Advanced water charms (including a very strong Aguamenti charm variation that Harry thought could be used to propel one through the water;) Silent Point Casting (which Harry was getting good at) and Underwater spell casting, (which was a little more than just doing it silently to avoid mangling the incantation.)

The fun bit was that Harry could ask as many questions as he liked. The professor seemed to expect or even require it. Being expected to ask questions when he had them was a new and novel experience for Harry too. He still half expected to be hit over the head with Petunia's frying pan, but it was getting easier with the Charms Professor's constant probing and praise.

He was also expected to practice the spells as well. Professor Flitwick would often demonstrate them and was quick to praise Harry when he got it right. He had been very impressed (and surprised) with Harry's silent and rather a minimal spell casting of some of his more familiar spells. It was strange but very nice to have someone pleased with his work and be as proud of him as Professor Flitwick said he was. It was very odd. Nice. But odd.

All the work was exhausting, but it was paying off. His occlumency was slowly getting better, and in all that, Harry had managed to find time almost every day to mirror call Bill and Charlie, which was something he always looked forward to.

0o0o0o0o

Just felt the need to say their is nothing sexual or inappropriate between Harry and Bill or Harry and Bill. Their close, supper close, there is a strong bond there, but its not sexual or weird like that.

I just wanted to add, that for people who have never been able to trust, or have had trust broken, realising there is someone you can trust, is a big deal. Its huge, so if it seems like harry is making a big deal out of nothing just remember, he's been though very real trauma, that changes a persons perspective on things and it can make things that would seem small to your average person, seem like a big deal.


	69. Chapter 69 Karkaroff

I'm rather pleased with this chapter. I think its funny. It was a lot of fun to write.

Sorry its late, was covering for the boss at work today (its their 39th wedding anniversary!)

Thank you again for everyones comments and reviews!

Harry was sitting in a cozy back corner of the kitchen on Friday morning, after finishing his morning tasks. His hair was still damp from his shower, and he was enjoying the sensation of the fire drying the long strands.

He was eating his way through a large plate of eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, toast and a bowl of fruit Winky had deposited in front of him. She had given him strict instructions to eat all of it, and that he was still too skinny. Which was true, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. Still, he thought she may have been overdoing it with the sheer size of the breakfast she'd given him. Hopefully, the others would be there soon to help him with it.

He flicked through the notes he'd gotten in his Gringotts box. Most of it was Boy-who-lived rubbish that he passed off to Dobby to deal with, but there was a letter from Rodgrip, his latest reply from Charlie's friend Tonks, and to his surprise, another one from Sirius. The one from Rodgrip was just an update on how the audits were going and that he'd set a team-up, to start surveying his properties.

Tonks had become somewhat of a penpal, and she'd been helping Harry hone his metamorph magic, as well as giving him some defence tips that she was picking up while in Auror training. Her letters were also dotted with funny anecdotes from her time in school, and Charlie often made an appearance in the stories, as did Bill. Her letters never failed to make him laugh, and he always replied eagerly.

The letter from Sirius was not as much fun. He hadn't heard back from Sirius since his short reply to his last letter. And honestly, between the way things had been going lately and what he'd learnt about the man from his mother's diary, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to read it.

An angry, hurt part of him wanted nothing to do with the man. But the younger lonely part of him desperately wanted the last of his family to live up to his expectations and actually be there for him for a change, instead of letting him down.

It looked a lot longer than Sirius's letters normally were. With a sigh, Harry opened it, read it, then balled it up and incinerated it with a harsh jab on his wand. Neville jumped and tipped over his pumpkin juice.

"Sorry, Neville," Harry said, "didn't mean to startle you."

"Was that from..." Hermione asked.

Harry nodded, "wanted to know why I hadn't written him a proper letter. He also congratulated me on my 'rebellious behaviour' but said I really should rebel like he and dad did, in the form of pranking rather than disobeying the headmaster. The same headmaster who only has my best interests at heart apparently.

He has dropped the 'why did you run away' questioning since my last reply. But he has heard that I've been unhoused. Said it was really impressive but a stupid thing to do. Told me to suck it up. As a Gryffindor, I should not have taken the cowards way out of the task, so I was in the wrong. Siad, he was very glad I had managed to stay safe in the task, but there were much better ways I could have managed without using a dark language. He said I should apologise to my house and if it was too late for that ask Dumbledore and McGonagall to let me be sorted back into Gryffindor. They'd sort me out."

"Seriously?" Said Neville incredulously, "you were un-housed. It was permanent. You can't be put back in Gryffindor. Even now you're technically houseless. Leaving one house means you cannot be put back into that house."

"I know. He was writing at me like I was stupid." Harry said morosely.

"What a plonker," said Fred, "was that your Godfather?"

"The same godfather that's on the run?" asked George

Harry'd forgotten that as close as he had gotten to Neville and the twins, they didn't know. He'd forgotten that they hadn't always been around.

"He's innocent," Hermione said, "and none of you can breathe a word of this to anyone," she added.

"I trust you," Neville said with a nod as Fred and George gave them a mock salute in agreement.

Their support warmed him.

And so Hermione filled them in while Harry allowed himself a moment to stew over the letter. It had been a disappointment, not at all what he wanted to hear.

He wasn't sure what he'd wanted to hear. Maybe reassurance? That Sirius was on his side? Finally? Maybe that he'd support Harry? Maybe an explanation or apology for how gods awful he'd been in school? And for everything he'd helped his dad do to his mum?

"So he's here back in the country to support you?" Neville said.

Harry snorted, "thought so. But more keeping an eye on things too by the sounds of it. He wants to meet tomorrow afternoon in Hogsmeade at 2pm, at the end of the road. We need to bring food apparently." He said to Hermione.

"He came back to...?" Hermione asked, shocked.

"Yep," Harry said, heaving a sigh.

"That's really risky!" Hermione said.

"I know. I can't believe him," said Harry tensely, "if he's caught... He's an ass, but I don't want him caught because of me!"

"He's an adult," Neville said, "even if he's here because he is worried for you, that's his choice. If his actions lead to him being caught, that's not on you, that's on him. He's the adult."

That actually made Harry feel a bit better, "thanks, Nev'."

Neville shrugged, "Gran may be a bit distant and not always the most supportive, she has very high standards that I can't always achieve, but she made sure I knew that I am not responsible for the choices of adults around me. Especially when they are my guardians."

Harry frowned at that, wondering what Neville had been feeling guilty about. His parents? What had happened to them?

But Neville and his Gran were right. Whatever had happened to them was not his fault, just like it wasn't Harry's if Sirius was caught because of his own choices.

"You need us to keep people from asking after you tomorrow afternoon?" Fred asked.

"That would be brilliant," Hermione said.

"Consider it done," said George.

"And Harry?" Neville said as the bell for class rang, "if he's unsupportive, you don't need him anyway. You have us."

The others nodded, and Harry smiled, they were right. He had his family, and that may not be Sirius any more, it may never have been. But he had his friends. They were his family. That was enough.

"Thanks, guys."

"Not a problem," said George.

"Anyway how many points did you earn Gryffindor yesterday because we only managed to loose them 75?" asked Fred.

"50 between the three of us," Hermione said.

"But we managed to loose half of them," Harry said with a grin.

They had Potions that afternoon. Harry, sitting huddled at the back, carefully watched his potion, his senses all focused firmly on the softly simmering magic in his cauldron. He hadn't messed it up yet.

He'd been getting better at managing the flow of magic in potions. He'd been catching up well. But it was much harder in a busy classroom when he could also sense everyone else's. Sometimes he felt like he was almost drowning in all the magic he could sense. But he was getting better at filtering the rest of it to the back of his mind.

"Neville," he whispered, "give it an extra deosil stir, its magic is flaring..." Harry hissed out of the corner of his mouth. He didn't want his friend to get in trouble when his cauldron boiled over.

Neville hurriedly gave it another stir, and the potioned settled.

"Thanks, Harry," he muttered, also out of the corner of his mouth.

Harry shot an anxious at their professor, but the man was berating Patil.

Harry was just about to add a Ginger root to his cauldron when there was a knock on the door. He blinked missed the rhythm of the magic and added the root too late.

Swearing under his breath, as he felt the magic bubble at the slight misstep, he hurried to fix it as Professor Snape called "enter."

Not looking up, (even though he _was_ curious as to who would dare interrupt), Harry carful added two extra Deosil stirs, and another widdershins stir to counteract the missed timing and waited for the next right moment, before carefully adding the other root in the right point in the magic's rhythm.

Thankfully it had worked, and the potion's magic stopped bubbling and returned to what it should be doing. Simmering. Paying careful attention to the rhythm of the potion for the next point to add the next root, he chanced glancing up.

Igor Karkaroff was at Professor Snape's desk, twisting his finger around his goatee and looking agitated. Harry looked back down at the potion, added another ginger root, and tried to listen without drawing attention to himself or screwing up his potion.

"We need to talk," Karkaroff said abruptly. He sounded like he was trying not to be overheard and doing a poor job of it. Or maybe Harry was just good at singling out sounds after a lifetime of having to listen for his relatives coming to have a go at him.

He added the last root.

"No. After my lesson, Karkaroff. If we must," Professor Snape muttered, as Harry set his rune timer. He now had 5 minutes before adding the Armadillo bile.

"We must! Now, while you can't slip off, Severus." Karkaroff interrupted, "You've been avoiding me."

_I wonder why that is_, Harry thought snarkily, _you're interrupting his lesson, no quicker way to piss him off. Except perhaps be me, and my bastard father,_ he added, carefully not glancing up as he got his armadillo bile out of his potion kit.

Despite Harry's desire never to again piss off Professor Snape, he held the measuring cup up to the light, so he could watch Professor Snape as he poured out the bile. Carefully adjusting the flow of his magic into the bile, Harry sneaked a sidelong glance at the pair of them.

Professor Snape looked angry. Karkaroff looked scared and was hovering by the door now, preventing Professor Snape from slipping out of the room.

_Fool, _Harry thought, finishing pouring his bile, and looking back at his work.

"Have you seen it?" said Karkaroff, still mumbling, "it's never been this clear, not since-"

"After the lesson," Professor Snape snapped.

"No!" Karkaroff snapped back, making Harry glance up again, nearly dropping a beetle eye.

Karkaroff was surreptitiously pointing to his inner forearm.

It took Harry a moment to work out what Karkaroff was referring too before he remembered their research into the dark mark after its appearance at the cup. Harry shivered.

_The moron, advertising that sort of thing in a classroom, _Harry thought as he crushed four beetle eyes, still listening carefully.

"But you must have noticed-" Karkaroff began in an agitated voice.

"Put it away!" snarled Professor Snape.

Harry flinched despite himself as Karkaroff babbled, "You've been avoiding me!"

Harry checked his potion was still the correct colour. Miraculously, the magic in the cauldron was still simmering as it should.

"I wonder why that is," Professor Snape spat sarcastically, making Harry have to suppress a snicker. The man really was funny when he wasn't pissed off with Harry.

He glanced up just in time to see the man stalking over to stop Weasley adding all the armadillo bile and blowing it up.

Harry hurriedly scooped the crushed beetle eyes onto a little spoon and waited, watching his cauldron as he listened to Snape ream out Weasley.

"You foolish boy, add the roots first! 10 points from Gryffindor for not reading your instructions." He snapped at Weasley, who looked mutinous.

Harry glanced at his timer and focused carefully on the potions, softly building magic waiting for the right moment. When he felt it, he quickly added a sprinkle of crushed beetle eyes to the bile, swirled it twice and then swiftly dumped it into his cauldron in a loose Widdershins figure eight...

just as the timer went off.

He bit back a triumphant smile at the perfect timing and looked up briefly. Professor Snape had rounded on Karkaroff and was preceding to rip into him.

_Gosh, it was nice to see him do that to someone else_, Harry thought. He could see why his mum thought he was funny now. He really was sarcastic and cynical as hell. It was brilliant.

Harry glanced back at his potion in time to see it change the right colour, a vivid red, and gently slid in the final ginger root and turned down the heat to a sleepy simmer.

"We can talk later, Karkaroff. Get out. And stop disturbing my class, before I hex you!" spat Professor Snape, at the end of his tirade.

Harry didn't look up as he paid close attention to the flow of magic in his cauldron but jumped as the door slammed. He kept waiting, tense from the loud noise, but didn't miss the right point to turn the heat back up to full.

He chanced a glance up. Karkaroff was gone.

_Good_, Harry thought, focusing back on his work. As interesting as that had been, he still had three steps to not fuck up. And while Harry had noticed that since the winter break, that the man was less cruel, Harry didn't want to push his luck but messing up his potion.

Professor Snape, still reamed students out for misbehaviour and took points left right and centre. He still picked on Gryffindor. But he was civil and always had valid reasons to take points now. When he was tutoring Harry one on one, he was even more civil.

Harry was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the man to snap and start attaching him like he used to. But so far the man had continued to be uncharacteristically civil and decent. It would have been a vast improvement, and if Harry hadn't been so terrified, he'd be thrilled.

Harry managed to not mess up his potion and left the class with his mind buzzing and a feeling of quiet elation at his achievement of a successfully brewed potion.

He and his friends set up camp in the Room of Requirement to cram out some homework before dinner. Or that's what they had intended.

What actually happened was Daphne (they were all on a first-name basis now) saw Harry fumbling to re-tie his long hair after potions, where it had been up, out of the way in a messy knot. Daphne took one look at his slightly haphazard ponytail and declared it a tragedy.

"It's up and out of the way," said Harry "what's wrong with it?"

"It's not neat, and it's not even artfully messy! It's just poorly done," Pansy said.

"Boys," Harry heard Daphne mutter exasperatedly to Hermione who smothered a giggle.

Harry shot her a glare as Pansy went on, "If you're going to put it up, do it properly. It's a mess. You need to at least brush it back with your fingers if you're not going to use a proper brush."

Daphne nodded, "your hair is much better now it's longer and behaves better. It shouldn't be too hard to get it to cooperate and sit neatly now. Or at least trim your fringe and the front, so it looks artfully messy. You've got all these strands that slip out, at the moment it just looks careless."

"You want to trim these bits," Daphne said, pulling out her wand, "so they look artfully careless, then you can just do this..."

Harry sighed. He could admit he didn't feel very confident in his ability to make it look good. While he'd worked some out for himself, and it was tamer now it was long. He still felt he didn't really know what to do with it. "I really don't want to have to put much effort into it, I just want it to look decent for a change," he said hurriedly, as Daphne and Pansy starting to fix it for him. Hermione and Milly just sitting there snickering at his bewildered misfortune.

And so the rest of the afternoon descended into what really could only be described as... Hairdressing.

Harry was taught how to do neat ponytails. There were several ways to do it, 'low ponytails', 'high ponytails,' 'messy ponytails' and how to put just some of it up.

He was also taught to braid it. Again there were a few ways to do it, but they started him on a basic one.

It was long enough to work with now, they said. Harry was secretly just a little relieved they were helping him. He wasn't an idiot, he could work out how to brush and put his hair up. But he'd fumbled a bit at first, especially as before it had always been a lost cause. Now he was able to actually do something with it, he had no-one to show him what he was actually doing, and he'd not thought to ask for help.

"Long hair's easier," Daphne said, appointing Luna as her model, "Luna's hair's about the same length as yours, so you can practice on her, then on yourself."

"Milly and Pansy had short hair, and Hermione's was too curly for you to learn on," she continued. Luckily for him, Luna was happy to be a test dummy. Once he got the hang of it, he was soon able to put his hair up rather nicely. And he had to admit it did look better after they showed him what could be done with it.

Though, it was still easier just to brush it and leave it out. It was too cool and novel still, being able to have it look decent so effortlessly. But, having it up for class and in the forest was more practical.

Once he'd mastered those things; however, Hermione had declared that he needed to learn how to do a French braid too. She liked them but was really bad at doing it on herself. So if he could learn and could do it for her, that would be good.

Dobby ended up having to bring them dinner, they got so caught up in it all. They even dragged Blaise in when he stuck his head in looking for them, and Harry noted his hair would just be long enough to do it up as well. The boy seemed rather amused and let them do what they liked with it, "as long as it doesn't end up looking like shit, do what you like."

By the time Harry had finished, he had successfully done French braids on all of them, and while he hadn't managed that on his own hair, Hermione had done his.

They deemed him 'proficient.'

They must have all been a rather comical sight; Harry, Hermione, Luna, Daphne, Blaise and even Pansy and Milly with neatly French braided hair, all tied up with neon ribbons Luna had conjured. The sorting hat would be proud of their inter-house cooperation.

It had been rather fun and surprisingly relaxing despite being so silly, not worrying about studying or catching up on what Harry was behind on for a change.

All in all the grand hair braiding session as it was then regarded had been a good way to spend an afternoon, he thought as he hurried to his 'detention.'


	70. Chapter 70 Crouch on the Map

After finishing in the forest with Hagrid, that same evening, in 'detention' Harry used one of his favourite snake passageways to go back to the dungeons. There was a snake carved into one of the stones in the wall of the entrance hall that opened up to a secret passage that spat him out next to Professor Snape store cupboard.

Harry seeped out of the passage and was hissing the password to open another snake passage just next to the door of Professor Snape when Hogwarts magic shifted in a warning.

_Shit someone was coming_, he hoped it wasn't Professor Snape or Professor Moody, he thought as he dived into the passage, sprinted down to the lower dungeons cursing himself for getting complacent.

_Fuck Professor Moody could see through cloaks and walls_.

He really had to find a way to hide from him. Hogwarts wrapped her magic around him protectively, and Harry knew she was keeping him safe. He relaxed, but only slightly.

_Thank you, my lady_, he thought, and he could tell somehow that for some reason she liked Moody little better than he did.

He sighed, not leaving the safety of his snake passageway yet. Just because the cloak kept him invisible from all but Moody, didn't mean he should get lazy and stop checking the map! He cursed himself as he hastily cast a disillusionment charm for extra protection in case it was Moody, and he did look through the cloak. He prayed that if it was Moody, that he wouldn't see him.

He pulled out the map, still cursing himself for being careless, he paused blinked when he couldn't find himself. He peered at the map more closely, looking carefully at the Dungeons he was now so familiar with.

He didn't find himself, but he did notice three things:

Firstly that the lower dungeons were not on the map.

Secondly, neither were the snake passageways, the Room of Requirement or the Chamber of Secrets.

Thirdly it was not Moody he heard in the corridor but Mr Crouch! Professor Moody was in his office.

_What the fuck?_ He thought, staring at the map, _what was Mr Crouch doing in the Dungeons?_

He watched Bartimius Crouch's dot as it stood in front of the door to Professor Snape's store cupboard, and then entered.

Harry frowned. What on earth was that about? Harry knew Professor Snape didn't let anyone into his private store cupboard, and especially not unsupervised.

Opening the snake passage, Harry listened carefully before stepping out and hurrying down to his cupboard, his eyes still on the map.

Crouch was still there. What was he doing? Was he investigating Snape? Was he working with Moody? But it was the store cupboard, so maybe he was he stealing? Shit Professor Snape would assume it was Harry! He was always looking for things to blame on Harry. Fuck!

"Dobby? Winky?" he called quickly, whispering despite now being safe behind his own wards.

They appeared with a pop, "Mr Harry Potter sir!" Dobby crowed as Winky thrust a large bacon sandwich at him, "you is still too skinny you are, little master!" Winky said, Harry just winced and took a big bite instead of arguing.

Swallowing hurriedly, with difficulty he said quickly, "Thank's Winky. Dobby can you make sure Snape knows someone is breaking into his store cupboard. I don't want him to know I know or that I sent you to warn him, he'll blame me."

Harry sighed in relief as Dobby popped away. The last thing he needed was the man thinking it was him. He didn't want the man yelling at him. He'd probably assume it was him if he knew he was down in the dungeons so much.

"Winky?" He said again after swallowing another bite, "can you tell me anything about Mr Crouch being in Snape's store cupboards?"

"Oh, Master Barty! You bad boy!" She squeaked before clapping her hand over her mouth and looked at him in horror.

_Ah, one of those things then, _he thought. What an odd thing to call Mr Crouch, though. She'd just called him Master at the world cup. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something seemed odd about the way she said it now.

But she was already twisting at her ears painfully, so he pushed the crazy thought aside.

"Stop that, you're not in trouble Winky," he said, but she didn't listen her eyes welling.

"Please stop Winky," but Winky was already wincing and muttering, "bad Winky, bad Winky,"

"Winky stop, that's a direct order," he said, and she stopped hurting herself but still looked very upset, "you're a good elf. You made a mistake and haven't told me anything important, I know Mr Crouches name is Barty."

She looked at him carefully, wide eyes.

"Winky," Harry said carefully, "I want to ask you about your old Master. Don't hurt yourself, you're not in trouble. Tell me if you can, and if not, that's fine. I don't want you hurting yourself, do you understand?"

Winky looked worried, but didn't say no, so Harry asked, "Do you know why he's here? Is it for the tournament? Is he a threat to me? I know he's here. Is he a threat to me or mine?"

"Winky is not knowing, little master, Harry Potter sir."

He frowned at the term little but grabbed her before she could hit her head on the wall in punishment.

"It's okay, you don't have to answer anything else Winky. You don't have to. You have a choice, okay?"

She nodded, her eyes wide.

"You've been looking after Mr Crouch most of his life then?

"All my life." she said nodding proudly, "and my mother before that and, her mother before that! Oh, how they would be ashamed!"

"You're a good elf, Winky. You made a mistake, but you're serving me well, looking after me well and help to keep me safe. I'm sure they'd be very proud of how well you're looking after me.

She blinked wiped her eyes, then said, "you is not eating your sandwich, little master."

"M' not little," he grumbled, taking another bite. It was very good, and after his 'detention,' in the forest he was ravenous.

Winky frowned at him, her hands on her hips, looking stubborn, "You _is_ little."

"No," he corrected.

"You is not a little as we," she conceded, "but you are little for a wizard," she said, poking him gently in the hip.

He winced and took a breath so as not to snap at her.

"It's a bit of a sore spot Winky," He explained, "it's not my fault I'm short. I can't help it, and I hate it. There are second years taller than me for Hekate's sake! And it's equally not my fault I'm skinny, I hate that too. I'm working on it."

"Ah," Winky said her eyes widening in understanding, "yes you is, but Dobby and Winky be feeding you up good, sir. Don't you worry, we be good elves and take good care of our young Master!"

He snorted, "thank's Winky."

After he finished his sandwich, he pulled out the Marauder's Grimoire. He wanted to read up on how they made the map. He'd have to figure out how to add the lower dungeons, and the snake passageways, and come to think of it, the Room of Requirement and the Chamber of Secrets. Maybe he could combine the map with his mother's map of the castle and grounds...

In the end, he was a little disappointed to see that the map was not at all tied to the castle wards in any away. Which meant that Lupin had hand-drawn the whole thing and they had added things in that way. The only way they tied it to the castle was to show the people.

This meant that unless Harry figured out how to tie it in, he'd have to draw in all the additions by hand. Worth the effort, but still it was a lot of effort...

Later that evening he met up with Hermione as well as Fred, George and Neville in the chamber and spun back the timer-turner. When the tie magic had dissipated, and they all had made themselves comfortable in their study area, Harry brought up Crouch.

"I just saw Crouch in Professor Snape's store cupboard," he told them.

"What?" said Hermione, "that can't be right. He's meant to be off work sick according to the paper.

"He's sick according to Percy too," Fred started, "got a letter from him yesterday-"

"-but he won't tell us more-"

"-other than to butt out of other peoples business-"

"-the prat." George finished.

"I want to know what he's doing here," Harry said

"So why is he in Professor Snape's rooms, looking into him? or stealing?" Hermione pondered, putting her quill down.

"And Winky said something odd. There are still secrets from her last Master she can't tell me. But she let something slip." Harry started.

At the mention of Winky and Crouch in the same sentence, Hermione scowled, still furious and the man's poor treatment of the elf.

"I asked her about Crouch, and she called him, Master Barty and a good boy," Harry said.

"That is odd," Hermione said, "at the world cup she just called him Master."

"I know, I wondered if maybe she knew him as a kid, but it almost sounded like she was referring to another crouch, a kid... Maybe he had a son."

"Does he have kids?" Said Fred.

"Dad's never mentioned it," said, George.

"That is odd," said Hermione, "I hate that, man!"

"It's not the only weird thing," Harry said, filling the twins in on potions class and Karkaroff.

"Professor Snape didn't seem fussed about whatever Karkaroff was worried about. Karkaroff thought he was in denial. He was saying something was getting clearer on his arm."

"Oh, and it's not the first time they've talked either!" said Hermione, "I overheard them at the ball!"

"What did they say?" Fred asked.

"Professor Snape suggested Karkaroff flee, but that he wasn't going anywhere. He doesn't seem worried, but you can never tell with Professor Snape. That's all I heard before they came round the corner and ran into some Ravenclaws." Hermione said.

"That's weird." Said Neville

"His left arm?" Fred asked,

"Don't Death Eaters have tattoos there?" Asked George.

Harry nodded, "the dark mark. Like at the one at the world cup. Ugly thing really."

Hermione snorted, digging around in her bag for a stack of notes, "he marked his death eaters with the dark mark, it was branded on to there left forearm," she explained, "he could use it to call them to him. I've been reading into it, and it must be some kind of old branding spell or maybe a portion charm. I'm not sure. I haven't found much on any anything like that."

"Its probably in the restricted section," Harry said, "and when did you have time to start doing more research on death eaters?"

"When you're in detention," Hermione said, "we've made a start. Luna has been working on Riddle with Neville and me. We've been looking into his background. Your family tree has helped a bit. But it's hard to track him down. That's where we found it, and the twins are looking into the death eaters."

"I think mum did some research on it, but the notebook isn't in her trunk, it must be in her apartment somewhere."

"Can we go get it at easter? I'd love to know what she found out about it?" Hermione asked, trying to contain her excitement.

"Sure," Harry said, "Do we know anything else about this mark?" Harry asked,

"Not really. Apparently it vanished after he fell last time," Hermione said, "by the sounds of it as Riddle gets closer to coming back it must be darkening."

"And it's scaring Karkaroff," said Fred.

"Don't blame the creep," added George, "he sold out a lot of his fellows to get off with a light sentence at his trial after he was caught."

"I can't imagine _he'd_ be too happy with Karkaroff if he comes back then," Neville said dubiously.

"So Karkaroff is worried, the dark mark is darkening, and Crouch is in Snape's store cupboard and in Moody's office. Moody gives me creeps. Plus Riddle on his way back and wants to use me. There is a servant at Hogwarts and Jorkins is dead. What the fuck is going in this year?"

It was worrying.

"I wish we could just have a normal year for once." Harry groaned.

"Statistics say whatever it is, is connected to the Defence teacher." Fred said too cheerfully, "the first one tried to kill you,"

"The second one a fraud that tried to wipe your memory,"

"The third was a werewolf that tried to eat you two and was connected to the escaped convict."

"History shows it's all moody's fault." George finished jokingly.

"Well fuck," Harry said, flopping back onto the couch, "that's a good point, and I don't know whether to take it seriously or not."

"I know, right?" Hermione said.

Harry pulled the map out again once he'd finished his homework. He knew he should get straight onto his enchanting OWL work with Hermione, which had been on their schedule for the day, but he wanted to finish the map first. He'd had an idea.

He had the Marauder's Grimoire, the Marauder's Map as well as his mothers map of the castle and of the grounds out on the desk.

He was planning on combining the maps and connecting them up to the castle wards. It took him a while to combine the three maps. In the end, he managed to find a spell to add the information from his mother's maps on to the Marauder's map. When he finally managed finished that, grinning in triumph, he reached out to Hogwarts.

_My lady? _He asked, reaching out until he could feel her attention, _I have an idea, and I need your help, _he thought, explaining what he wanted.

Sometime later, he blinked to clear his head from all the magic and looked at the map again. It had worked. The castle had let him use his blood to tie his map to her showing every bit of her, the grounds and forest of the castle.

And with the additions from his mother, the map was now a treasure trove of information.

To his delight other passageways, he'd not known passwords for, were now on the map with their passwords. It was amazing how much more it showed now, all the snake passageways had appeared, the lower dungeons, The Room of Requirement, The chamber of secrets, a bunch of rooms Harry hadn't seen or known had existed, including the kitchen cellars and an attic Harry hadn't known Hogwarts had. It also included the passwords to various wards, including Harry's and the passwords to dismantle the caterwauling charms on the passageways Filch knew about. It was dangerous information to have, but Harry had blood warded it, so it was pretty safe. He didn't like the idea of someone else being able to read it and see that passwords to his wards. But being in parseltongue Harry know no-one other than a Parselmouth would be able to read them. And wasn't written parseltongue odd looking. Little squiggly rune-like symbols that somehow made sense to him.

The map showed the grounds, forest and the shack, everything Hogwarts wards touched.

The additions had not come without a price, though. The bargain Harry had made with the castle, was that the new map would be blood warded. No one but a true heir to the castle cold access the map. So really only he could read it.

Fred and George would be disappointed, but Harry was happy. It felt like a fair price. It also felt less tainted by his father now, which had really been bothering Harry since he'd learnt about him.

And Harry wouldn't be ever caught by surprise now, and wouldn't ever be trapped in a situation where he couldn't get out on. Not with Hogwarts on his side.

The other concession he'd had to make was helping Hogwarts get rid of a few things. The map now tied to the wards, he could use his wand to see them. He still couldn't be properly tied to them until he was lord, but he could access their blueprint on the map. Which meant he could see the dark magic ward. One of the reasons he had agreed was that with no way for him to control the wards, he couldn't search for the dark objects in the school bothering her like an itch.

Turned out house-elves were good at confiscating them and banishing them to the room of hidden things. The bad news was, they were still there, and Hogwarts didn't like it. Harry had promised to remove them. He wasn't sure how yet, but she'd agreed that he could smuggle Bill in one day to help remove them. He hoped Bill wouldn't mind.

Map sorted, Harry turned back to his O. studies.


	71. Chapter 71 Quibbler & Curse-breaking

"Guess what Peeves got hold of," Fred crowed the next morning sitting down on one side of Harry in the kitchens at breakfast.

Harry looked up curiously from where he was pouring a liberal dose of maple syrup onto his porridge, "what did he do? Was it brilliant?"

"Oh yeah," George hooted, sitting on Harry's other side and bumping shoulders with him.

"almost feel sorry for Ron," Fred added with a grin.

"almost. He got Ronnikin's dress robes," George said "been wearing them like a cape,"

"and everyone knows they're Ron's."

"because he saw it and started yelling!"

"Telling the whole hall about it apparently."

"Lucky Peeves knew where to find them really,"

"Ingenious," Fred finished.

Harry snorted, "thanks, guys."

"We have no idea what you're referring too," the twins said with exaggerated innocence.

"You didn't have to set Peeves on him for me," Harry said, "but I'm glad you did."

Fred wrapped an arm around him and said, "We also kept him stocked on water balloons with indelible ink,"

"and neon extra sticky wizards slime", added George also wrapping an arm around Harry sandwiching him between them.

"hard to get off, that."

"We'll have to patent that one too,"

"for the joke shop."

Harry grinned "is that what he got Dumbledore with the other day?"

"Yep," they chorused.

"and I heard that if you go outside at lunch today-"

"you may happen to see peeves tossing all the headmaster's brightly coloured robes into the lake for the giant squid!" They finished.

Harry grinned, and served the twins some porridge from a steaming pot on the table and passed over the honey. He knew they preferred it to Maple Syrup.

The heathens.

"Speaking of patenting things," Harry said, "are you familiar with how to go about doing that? I want to do that for my fireproof shirts, and maybe the shielding bracelets. Charlie's boss wants to buy the shirts, but I don't know how to patent the design."

"We can help you with that, Harrykins," Fred said.

"Bill helped us through it the first time with the trick wands and ton-tongue toffees, so we know how to do it now," George explained.

"Thank guys," Harry said, as Neville plopped down opposite them, followed by a much too cheery Hermione carrying a newspaper.

"Go' morn'," Neville mumbled sleepily.

"Anything interesting in the paper?" Harry asked Hermione, "they realise Jorkins' is dead yet?"

"Nope," she said with a sigh, "no mention since that article earlier in the week saying she was missing."

"Wonder why Dumbledore didn't tell them she's dead. I know Sirius told him what I told him about it." Harry said.

"Want us to send them an anonymous tip or something?" Fred offered,

"Just to set the Kneazle among the doxies," added George.

Harry snorted, "maybe, can't hurt. Her family deserve to know."

Hermione shrugged, "I wonder why Dumbledore doesn't want anyone to know how he knows? Anyway, there's an article about Crouch, hang on I'll read you the highlights." She said, flipping back to the front page.

She often read aloud the interesting bits of the paper now they weren't in the great hall for breakfast competing with all the noise.

"Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch is the headline." She said before going on, "hasn't been seen in public since November... house appears deserted... St. Mungo's Hospital declined to comment... Ministry refuses to confirm rumours of critical illness..."

"They're making it sound like he's dying," said Harry. "But he can't be that ill if he was here..."

"Perc' thinks he's overworked," said Fred

"Just got another letter from him, about something else. He mentioned it," George added.

"The prat's got a crush on the guy," finished Fred rolling his eyes, "he's always nattering on about him.

"Crouch did look ill last time I saw him up close. And that was the night my name came out of the goblet," said Harry slowly, "but he's been here a few time. I did see him on the map in Moody's office with him before the first task."

"So somethings going on with him," Harry said, "I'll see if I can get Dobby to get anything out of Winky on it. He's up to something, and it's got something to do with moody."

He sighed, starting to feel overwhelmed again. There was too much going on.

Before Harry could do anything, someone sat down next to him and liberated his bowl of porridge.

"Oi," he said, only to smile when he saw it was Luna, who smiled sunnily at him and handed him an early copy of the Quibbler.

"You can have your own bowl, you know," he said jokingly, "you don't need to steal mine."

She hummed around a spoonful of porridge and said, "you put more syrup on yours. It tastes better when you do it."

Harry snorted and served himself another bowl, upending the rest of the maple syrup into it. He didn't really mind sharing with Luna. She was a good friend, and it was nice having friends to share things with. Besides, she always let him steal some of the chocolate biscuits her dad sent her.

"When's this one coming out?" Hermione asked Luna, taking the paper from Harry.

"Monday," she said, stealing one of Neville strawberries.

They were used to Luna by now and didn't mind. Or maybe more accurately, Harry thought, they'd all gotten a lot closer and were more comfortable with each other. They had fewer boundaries around each other now, and it seemed second nature to share things around. He, the twins, Neville and Hermione had become very close. Family. And Luna easily fitted into their group.

As if sensing this thought, Luna beamed at him and went back to her liberated breakfast.

This edition of the Quibbler had a large yellow whispy thing on the front, with the title of Bumble-Zingers!

There was also a photo of the Gryffindor house crest and a picture from the yule ball.

The headings were, "Unjustly Un-housed! Injustice at Hogwarts," "Hogwarts Yule Ball: a sensation," "Creature Prejudices Rife in Britain," and "Crumple Horned Snorkack sighted in Sweden!"

The opening article was on the un-housing.

Hermione read the highlights, "archaic punishment... not used in over a century... Born from a different time... cruel antiquated punishment doled out by ignorant students to bully one of their own... should have been disbanded... now being used for petty grudges... five students unfairly cast out... the first un-housing over a mere difference of opinion... four more outcasts for sticking up for their ostracised friend... Gryffindor house standards have fallen, as this latest act of injustice clearly shows... The headmaster does nothing... Head of House does nothing... other Heads of Houses had to step in to right the wrong their colleagues ignored... five un-housing victims to be re-sorted in next school year... now officially houseless, not unhoused... Will justice be served?"

"Wow. Well done, Luna," Hermione said, making the other girl smile, "you did a great job!"

The article didn't name names, Harry noted, not with the stigma of un-housing, but it did cast the five of them in a better light. Hopefully, people would be on their side when they worked it out. And they would. Harry was surprised Gryffindor had kept it quiet this long.

To make the article even better, it had positively reamed out Gryffindor house for even considering casting out any of their own. Especially for something as stupid as 'not being needlessly foolish' and for being loyal to their friends.

Harry was almost chuckling in delight as the Quibbler practically shamed the whole house calling them all un-chivalrous disgraces to their founder's good name and that they had gone against everything Godric Gryffindor had stood for.

Harry couldn't wait to see how the rest of the school reacted to it on Monday. The Quibbler was starting to gain quite the following among the student body now.

The next few pages were devoted to the tournament. It rehashed the first task, and the champions and their standing, before moving on to cover the ball in great detail. It did note that Harry had not been present, but played it in a favourable light, sighting that Harry had not wanted to disrupt the real champion's night to shine.

Harry's official apology letter was published in the centre double page. It had the formal and sincere apology to anyone that had sent him mail that he had not received until now.

It went on to explain that he had been unaware of the mail ward. It went on to subtly imply Harry's guardian was deficient and had let everyone down in not doing his duty to Harry. It also apologised for any accidental snubbing or any offence Harry had caused be is ignorance of wizarding customs. Again this explained his ignorance and without outright naming names, painted his guardian in a very bad light for letting harry down and not instructing harry as he had aught.

Harry and Luna were hoping some of the articles would be picked up by the Daily Prophet. Their dragon article had been just last week. And Luna's father was very happy with the deal the Prophet had given them.

The next article was the one Luna was most proud of. She'd worked on it with Professors' Hagrid, Flitwick and Lupin. It was several pages long, and showed all of them in a good light, stating that it should not matter if Hagrid was part giant or Flitwick part goblin. What did it matter if Lupin was a werewolf? They were brilliant teachers and had not hurt anyone.

Harry may not like Lupin anymore, but he certainly agreed that the man had been a good teacher, and should be judged on his character, not his creature status.

Luna had interviewed all three teachers about their lives, their parents and what being part creature was like. All three had been poorly treated. And really it was no wonder giants, and goblins hated wizards, no wonder the werewolves had joined Voldemort in the last war when wizards as a whole treated them appallingly. It went on to make a very good case for creature rights and part-creature rights.

Harry's favourite bit was when Hagrid explained what it was like being part giant, "not that different from the rest of ye really, just a mite bigger an' a bit more hex resistant. Useful that was in school."

There were a few other articles in there written by Luna's father and some letters to the editor. Some of which were interesting replies to the last edition. Some of which had very interesting options and some of which seemed just plain nuts.

Luna had written an odd little piece on Bumble-Zingers, the yellow whispy thing on the front cover. If Harry squinted he supposed it looked a bit like a gigantic bumblebee with a wicked-looking sting. The article discussed what they ate, who they stalked and why people couldn't see them.

It sounded very eccentric and quite mad until Harry put on the spectra specs and read the real article which was on compulsion and binding magic, how to see the signs, how to stay away from it and get free of it if you were caught in some.

It also made a good argument for making that class of spells and potions illegal or at the very least heavily regulated. He wondered if one day they'd manage to make it a law.

Hermione might. She was passionate about rights and justice. Maybe he'd ask her to be his Wizengamot Proxy when they were of age. She'd be better at it than him... she'd be able to do so much good with it. He'd have to ask her. And wouldn't it be brilliant to have a Muggleborn on the Wizengamot?

"Thanks, Luna," Harry said, hugging his friend tightly. She beamed at him and tossed him a strawberry.

He grinned, ate the strawberry, cast a tempos charm and winced.

"Shit, I gotta go, or I'm going to be late for Bill," Harry said, scoffing the last of his porridge and stowing the Quibbler in his bag.

"We'll meet you at the three broomsticks at 1," Hermione said, "I'll bring food for Sirius."

"Say hi to Bill for us," the twins chirped.

"Thanks! Will do," Harry called out over his shoulder as he tore out of the kitchen, grabbing an apple on the way.

He paused briefly in the tunnel under the willow, sheltered in the safety of the willow's friendly roots. He still burnt something in offering to Hekate and Magic, at least once a day. The purple and black flames burned harmlessly in his hands as his offering was taken, filling him with that wonderful, now familiar, sense of wild magic and connection.

Smiling, he hurried up into the Shack.

Bill was waiting for him in the Shake sitting on the couch and talking to someone in Goblin tongue through his mirror. Harry couldn't be sure, but he thought it sounded different from when Rodgrip and Riptooth spoke in Goblin. Maybe Goblin's in Egypt spoke a different dialect to Goblins in England? Or maybe it just sounded different when a human spoke it. He wondered if Goblins and Humans had different vocal cords...

Harry perched on the arm of the couch, carefully out of sight of the mirror and waited for Bill to be finished. Bill flashed him a grin, and wrapped an arm around him, but kept talking for a moment, before he barked out a harsh sounding farewell, saluted the mirror and pocketed it.

"Hello kiddo," Bill said, turning to Harry.

Bill pull him from the arm of the couch and into his lap in a hug. Harry laughed as he hugged back and asked, "how many languages do you speak?"

"A few," Bill said, thinking about it and ticking them off on his fingers, "English, English Goblin, Egyptian Goblin, Latin, Ancient Greek, Arabic, which is spoken in Egypt," Bill added, "along with some other dialects from the places I've worked regularly in Egypt. Not fluently but enough to get by. My Romanian is passable but crappy. I can read a bunch of runic scripts, and dead languages but my ability to speak them's limited. Some of it I learnt for work, and my masteries, some, like Romanian, I picked up when visiting Charlie. His Romanian is way better than mine, he's fluent."

"Wow, that's a lot," Harry said, looking stunned.

Bill laughed, "not that hard when you have potions, though even with the Potions, it takes time and work."

Harry laughed, "yeah, I'm doing the mermish potion for the second task. Then I'm thinking of doing Goblin and mum had some she said would help with school."

"Nice, I wouldn't mind seeing the Mer city in the lake. Apparently, there are some ruins down there with old markings. I really want to have a look." Bill said, "and I have a big goblin dictionary if you need one."

"Ooh, thanks. I'll let you know when I get that far. We want to explore the lake in the summer term. I was going to check that the mer don't mind us exploring their lake. I can ask the mer in the lake if you can come down too and have a look at them?"

"That would be brilliant," Bill said.

"Oh, and thanks for your advice with Professor Snape." Harry said, "It seemed to have help. He's been really odd, but okay so far. Helped us with the un-housing too. I'm getting much better at the flow of magic in potions now too."

"I'm glad," Bill said, giving Harry a squeeze, "so what's on the agenda today? You said you wanted help with something."

"If you don't mind, you don't have too." Harry said, not wanting to burden him, "I made a deal with Hogwarts. She wants me to get rid of the dark and cursed things for her as she can't. She connected the map to the wards and to herself. And I said in exchange that I'd deal with the dark objects for her."

"Oh?" Bill asked curiously, "Brilliant! Sounds fun."

Harry grinned, "I thought about giving it a go my self with what you've taught me, but then a thought that was probably pretty stupid as you taught me a few spells, but I'm not a Curse-breaker and didn't want to blow myself up."

"Very wise," Bill said seriously pulling Harry up of the couch, and casting a disillusionment charm over them both, "I'll have a look at it, and we'll see how much you can help with and how much I can teach you. It depends on what's there."

"Great," Harry said, flinging the cloak over the top of them both and pulling out the map.

They were disillusioned, but with Moody's eye, they couldn't be too careful. He explained about the map as he led Bill back onto the Hogwarts grounds, and into the castle and up to the seventh floor via a few snake passages.

"I think I just need the room of hidden things," Harry said, pacing in front of the wall, "I think that's what she meant when she told me. She doesn't exactly use words," Harry explained.

"I still can't believe you can talk to the castle, kiddo. That's so cool," Bill said, sounding a little like an over-excited kid in a lolly shop.

Harry laughed, "just reach out and feel for her, she's less dormant now, she'll hear you." Harry said as he felt the castle's excitement and anticipation as the door appeared.

He opened the door to see not the room of hidden things, but what looked like the inside of a large Gringotts vault with a pile of objects on the far side. Harry turned to see if Bill had followed him, but he was standing in the corridor with his hand on the wall, a grin on his face.

"Come on," Harry said, "you can talk to our lady in here too,"

Bill grinned again and said, "thank you, my lady," to the castle and entered the room, stepping in front of Harry.

Harry could see the change in his friend immediately. He stood taller and slightly different as if on the balls of his feet, ready for anything. His wand was out, and he was looking around the room with a critical eye.

He held an arm out in front of Harry, stopping him from moving further into the room, "we should be okay here," he said softly, "but let me just do some detection spells and protections first."

Harry nodded and watched as bill first cast a detection charm, then turned back to Harry.

"Right, this is the first set of protections we're going to put on ourselves. It will protect us from outside magic and any malicious magic. It's good for when doing work like this but not practical for everyday use as it's draining. So tell me if you start getting tired, we don't have to do it all in one day. We'll stop for breaks regularly, and I'll get your elf friend to bring us up some chocolate."

Harry nodded and paid close attention as Bill taught him how to do a series of basic curse breaker protection spells. They then ran through a range of detection spells before drawing some wards on the floor around the door giving them a safe space to run to if shit hit the fan. They also drew several containment spells around the pile of cursed objects.

Thankfully Hogwarts had most of it contained, so it was easier for them to start extracting the objects. He showed Harry how to use spells to detect what kind of magic was on the objects and how to read the results.

He learnt how to safely handle things with unknown magic on it, dragon-hide gloves were useful but not always, as sometimes the inherent magic in the dragon-hide was more a hindrance than a help.

There were several ways to quarantine objects and several ways to banish them. There were even more ways to dismantle the curses and spells on the objects. Harry did not have the skills to dismantle most of the curses. But he did learn how to ward up a containment trunk for moving dark objects safely.

"We don't have time to look at each thing individually. Not today, and not with all the stuff you have on your plate," Bill explained as he supervised Harry moving a really ugly looking set of robes into the containment trunk, "this will keep it contained, and I'll take it to work and go through it. Anything safe I'll return to Hogwarts, anything nasty that can't be fixed we'll destroy. I don't want to do it here as if it's really bad it could blow up. And I don't want to risk you or Hogwarts. You don't have the training for this, and we don't have the right wards for that sort of banishment."

Harry nodded, understanding. He was interested and didn't mean to pass Bill a load of extra work. But Bill was right, Harry didn't have the skill set at the moment to be able to handle it on his own or be much help without being a danger.

"Sorry for making all the extra work that you won't get paid for." harry said guiltily.

"Are you kidding?!" Bill said, "this is great! For two reasons." He explained, "One, I love this stuff, this is my jam. I'm more than happy to have a box of interesting curses to go through. If I minded, I would have said so.

Two, Hogwarts wants this stuff gone, and this is what Gringotts and curse breakers do. It's what we're here for. The goblins will be thrilled to get some of this shit back. They'll be able to decontaminate it and fix it back up. There also looks to be some goblin made things, that the goblins will be more than happy to reclaim. The other reason not to feel bad about the work is that there's also the great bonus pay for this sort of thing. You'll get some too for helping."

"I what? You don't need-" Harry stuttered.

"Sweetheart, I'm not asking you, I'm telling you nicely," Bill said with a patient smile. "If I get bonus pay for bringing a bunch of cursed things in, some of which are Goblin made, then I'm making sure you get your fair share too. They're getting this stuff because of you.

Harry was embarrassed but pleased, and after a short break, and some chocolate, they got back to work.

By the time they had finished, Harry's detention spells were getting very good, and his repertoire of them was very comprehensive. He was also getting better at containing, warding and handling various magical objects.

Though there were still a few things, Bill wouldn't let him anywhere near, like an ugly silver tiara that made Harry's head hurt, a rusty sword that tried to stab them both and a pretty looking jar of fire that Harry really wanted to touch, even with his occlumency and protections spells.

It was a good lesson. Harry ended up learning loads, and they managed to box it all for Bill to take to Gringotts.

"So why are the goblins so pleased to get goblin made things back," Harry asked as they were sitting in another version of the room, eating some chocolate to replenish their energy after the morning of heavy spell work.

"Is it an issue normally?" He went on.

"Yes," Bill said, "Goblin made things belong to the maker. Wizards forget this all the time. Goblin made things are meant to be returned to them after the user dies. They get really cranky when wizards bequeath things to their kids after they die. As it's not really theirs to bequeath. Its the property of the Goblin who made it first and for most."

"Oh," Harry said, "really? Does that mean Gryffindors sword was technically stolen from them?"

"Yes,"

"I guess that's another thing to add to the list of shit Dumbledore's done then," Harry said, "he's keeping it in his office."

"Ah," Bill said, "that's a bit awkward."

"Why?"

"Several reasons. Wizards forget Goblin made things are never the property of wizards. It's lent to the 'owner' for the extent of their life, like a lease, then it's to be returned to the maker. But wizards forget this and consider it the property of them and their descendants.

This would mean that as you pulled it out of the hat and are Gryffindor's descendent in the eyes of wizards, it's yours. So no-one but you can give it back to the rightful owners. That also means that Dumbledore shouldn't be holding it. It was never his to keep. And I'm guessing you can't get it off Dumbledore right now, and it's not his to keep anyway."

"Oh... Bollocks," Harry said, "I thought it was Hogwarts property or Dumbledores."

"Nope," Bill said, "it's the Goblins."

Harry reached out to Hogwarts for a moment, listening to her magic for a moment before he turned back to Bill and said, "can you please tell them about it for her? And where it is? I'll try to get it back to them."

"Oh good, they will be pleased," Bill said

"Is there anything Goblin made my ancestors nicked? In my vault?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, but you can't do anything about it until your emancipated and have full control over your vaults so best not to bring it up."

"Okay, I don't really want to piss off the people handling my money."

"Wise call. They'll tell you when you can do something about it. But they won't want to talk about it when nothing to be done. It's a huge sore spot. They'll lift up your interest rates if you piss them off too much."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah," Bill said with a grin, "if wizards are too rude, goblins can make things very difficult for them."

Harry grinned wickedly, "good."

Before lunch, Bill went on to teach Harry a bit more about goblin laws as well as wizarding laws of inheritance and ownership. In the old family's there were different laws for things recorded as heirlooms.

"So if it's a crime to destroy an heirloom. Does that mean I can press charges against the Gryffindors for destroying my mum's blanket? They tried, Winky fixed it, but it was still damaged.

"Unfortunately no," Bill explained sadly, "it has to be listed as an heirloom with Gringotts first. It has to be made official for it to be protected. Though having it declared an heirloom means that Gringotts can recall it from pretty much where unless it's behind blood wards."

"Like the ring in Godric's Hollow?" Harry asked.

"Yep, the only reason it wasn't recalled was because of the blood wards around it were blood wards of Potter blood."

So that would mean if I have the important things declared heirlooms, they'll be safer if people try and destroy them?" Harry asked.

"They can be recalled if stolen, and if damaged by someone, they can face Azkaban time, depending on whether it was intentional or not. But it won't actually physically protect the item itself."

The lesson was fascinating, but by the time lunch rolled around, Harry's head was full, and his stomach was growling.

"You want to join us for lunch at the three broomsticks?" Harry asked, "the twins will be there. They say hi by the way."

Bill smiled, "love to, but I'm catching up with a friend this week. I'll join you lot next time you're in Hogsmeade though."

Harry wondered if that friend was Professor Snape. He had a feeling it might be but decided not to ask.

"Tell the twins I'll give them a call tonight okay?" Bill asked.

Harry nodded, "I'll let them know, thanks for the lesson today, it was really good." He said hugging Bill goodbye.

"No problem sweetheart," Bill said, hugging Harry back and disillusioning himself as he slipping out of the room.

Harry left the castle under the cloak. He was just in time to see robes being tossed out of the headmaster's tower and into the lake. He thought he could hear yelling from the tower as Peeves zoomed out the window, another pile of robes, socks and hats in his arms, letting them rain down into the lake.

Harry didn't hide his grin and reached out to Hogwarts, "my lady, is perchance the squid awake?" He said, failing to suppress a snicker.

He felt the castles magic steer cheerily and grinned as a tentacle reached out of the lake and pulled the robes under, just in time to see Dumbledore running down the steps.

Harry grinned and slipped off the grounds towards Hogsmeade to meet Hermione.


	72. Chapter 72 Hogsmeade

When Harry got to Hogsmeade, he headed straight to the Three Broomsticks to meet Hermione and the others for lunch.

Harry cast an eye around and found Hermione and Neville at the bar ordering Butterbeer. He wove his way thought to them.

"We got you a Butterbeer," Neville said, pushing a bottle across to him, making Harry grin, "and we figured we'd get food to share." He added.

"Thanks," Harry said, gratefully taking a long pull of his Butterbeer. He loved Butterbeer.

He turned to Hermione to see where they wanted to sit, but she wasn't looking at him. She was looking at the mirror behind the bar.

"Doesn't he ever go into the Ministry?" Hermione whispered, "Look!"

She pointed, and he followed her finger. There in the reflection was Ludo Bagman sitting in a shadowy corner at the back of the pub with a bunch of goblins. He was talking very fast in a low voice, looking very uncomfortable. The goblins were all had their arms crossed and were looking menacing.

"Wonder what he did to piss them off this time?" Harry wondered.

"He's in debt, remember?" Hermione whispered, "it was in the Quibbler."

"It's odd that they're here," said Neville.

It was indeed, odd. Harry thought. He watched Bagman in the mirror. He was looking panicked like he had that night in the forest before the Dark Mark had appeared. But just then Bagman glanced over at the bar, saw Harry, and stood up.

"Bollocks," Harry sighed.

Neville snickered.

"In a moment, in a moment!" Bagman's voice carried over to them as he brusquely dismissed the goblins. Bagman hurried through the pub toward Harry, his grin back in place.

"Harry!" he said. "Been hoping to run into you! Everything going all right?"

"Well Met sir," Harry greeted formally, hoping Bagman would take the hint and stop calling him Harry as if they were friends.

"Wonder if I could have a private word, Harry?" said Bagman eagerly. "You couldn't give us a moment, you two, could you?"

"Er-" Neville stuttered, and Hermione searched Harry's face for a moment before nodding and saying, "we'll go find a table, Harry."

Bagman led Harry along the bar to the end furthest from Madam Rosmerta. Harry followed him but didn't get within arms reach of the man.

"Well, I thought I'd congratulate you on surviving the first task, Harry," said Bagman. "But don't forget this is a competition, you want to earn points!"

Harry stared at him. But Bagman didn't seem in any particular rush to get to the point.

"Mr Potter, please, sir, we don't really know each other," Harry corrected softly. But Bagman was glancing into the mirror over the bar at the goblins, who were all watching him and Harry through dark slanting eyes. Harry gave them a discreet nod of acknowledgment that Bill had taught him.

They looked at him for a long moment before nodding back and muttering to each other.

"Absolute nightmare," said Bagman in an undertone jerking his head in their direction.

Harry frowned at this, being rude about them wouldn't do him any favours.

"Their English isn't too good..." Bagman said, "it's like being back with all the Bulgarians at the Quidditch World Cup... but at least they used sign language another human could recognise. This lot keep gabbling in Gobbledegook... and I only know one word of Gobbledegook. Bladvak. It means 'pickax.' But I don't want them to think I'm threatening them."

He gave a short, booming laugh that Harry didn't find that funny. He wondered if the goblins too were pretending to not understand Bagman like the Bulgarians had been. Harry wouldn't blame them for not learning English, why bother learning to communicate with wizards when they were so rude? And it wasn't as if Bagman had made any effort to learn their language.

"Well, I have it on good authority that my Goblin Tongue is rather terrible currently, but-"

"Gobbledegook, Harry, the language is called, Gobbledegook." Bagman corrected.

"Mr Potter," he corrected with a frown, "and it's not actually. That's what wizards call it. It's a rather insulting name." Harry said.

When Bagman looked surprised and spluttered, Harry said, "I may not be able to speak it yet, but I can follow their etiquette well enough. Their customs really are the most sensible. Most wizards would do better just to even make an effort to learn them. At the very least, it would do well to not offend the people dealing with your money through sheer ignorance." Harry said calmly.

"Oh," Mr Bagman said, looking stunned, "I say, I suppose you have a point... I'd never even thought of that!"

Harry had to work not to roll his eyes. "What do they want anyway, sir? If you don't mind me asking," He said, noticing how the goblins were watching Bagman very closely again.

"Er..." said Bagman, looking suddenly nervous. "They... er... they're looking for Barty Crouch."

Harry got the strangest impression that he was lying. Or latest partially. The man's magic was tumultuous, and Harry got the sense that he was desperate.

"Why are they looking for him here?" said Harry, if it was a lie, it was a bad one. It made no sense for Crouch to be here. "He's meant to be at home sick, or in the Ministry, isn't he?"

"Er... as a matter of fact, I've no idea where he is," said Bagman. "He's stopped coming to work. Been absent for a couple of weeks now. Young Percy, his assistant, says he's been sending instructions in by owl. But would you mind not mentioning that to anyone, Harry? Because Rita Skeeter's still poking around everywhere, she can, and I'm willing to bet she'd work up Barty's illness into something sinister. Probably say he's gone missing like Bertha Jorkins."

"Mr Potter," Harry corrected again somewhat irritably, "and have you heard anything about Jorkins yet?" He asked.

"No," said Bagman, looking strained again. "I've got people looking, of course ..." (About time, thought Harry) "and it's all very strange. She seems to have vanished without a trace..." Bagman continued.

Harry wondered if he should tell Bagman she was dead, but how would he explain how he knew?

Harry was saved from mentioning it when Bagman changed the subject, "What are we doing, talking about goblins and Bertha Jorkins? I really wanted to ask you," he lowered his voice, and Harry couldn't help thinking; finally! You're getting to the point!

"How are you getting on with your golden egg?"

Harry blinked, "why," he asked, surprised, and somewhat defensively suspicious.

"Listen, Harry," Bagman murmured, and Harry had to forage back another frown at yet another adult taking such improper informalities with him! Still!

"I feel very bad about all this... you were thrown into this tournament, you didn't volunteer for it..." Bagman continued, and Harry couldn't help thinking, _what? Now you care about that?!_

Bagman's voice was so quiet now, Harry had to lean closer to listen, "if I can help at all... I've taken a liking to you... and you didn't do too well against the Dragon... you a bit behind, just say the word."

Harry fort to hold back a glair. _I dealt with the Dragon just fine thank you very much_, he thought.

Harry stared up into Bagman's round, flushed face and his wide eyes.

He felt nervous, Harry realised, panicked, with maybe a hint of desperation.

"We're supposed to work out the clues alone, aren't we?" Harry said, careful to keep his voice casual as if he were asking for guidance and not accusing the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports of breaking the rules.

Even if he was.

"Well... well, yes," said Bagman impatiently, pleadingly...

Why was he pleading? Why did Bagman want Harry to cheat? To blackmail him? "but - come on. Harry, we all want a Hogwarts victory, don't we?"

_Do we?_ Harry thought facetiously.

"Have you offered Diggory help?" Harry said, "he has a much better chance of winning than me, _sir_."

The smallest of frowns creased Bagman's face, and Harry thought he felt a flash of panic from the man.

What? He didn't want Diggory winning? So it wasn't about Hogwarts, it was about Harry.

_What the hell?_

"No, I haven't," Bagman said. "I - well, like I say, I've taken a liking to you. Just thought I'd offer..."

Ah, that's what it was. He wanted Harry to win.

Why though? Was he in it to see Harry dead? Was he part of Riddle's plot? That could be why no-one knew Jorkins was dead yet.

But Bagman hadn't felt like he was lying when he was talking about her. And he seemed so ordinary, so harmless if a bit of a crook. Harry never really got the impression that Bagman was a threat to him. He never felt like a threat, just a bit dodgy. What was going on?

"Hello, Mr Bagman," said Fred brightly popping up behind Harry.

Bagman jumped and suddenly seemed much less eager to be there. And wasn't that interesting.

"Can we buy you a drink?" George offered, rather politely.

What did they want Harry wondered, they were acting oddly. They wanted something, he could sense it. What did they want from Bagman?

"Er, no," said Bagman shortly casting a glance at Harry, "no, thank you, boys... But how about it, Harry, think about my offer." He was already looking as if he wanted to escape.

Fred and George looked just as disappointed at this and Harry wondered what they wanted. Bagman almost seemed scared of Fred and George? No... not scared... but he diffidently wasn't pleased to see them. Harry sighed, frowning slightly at the man.

"Anyway, I really must decline Mr Bagman," said Harry formally, "and please sir, I don't mean to be rude, but it's Mr Potter, sir. I wouldn't want to be accused of anything or breaking the rules. It's bad enough that I'm in it as it is, I don't want any trouble."

And he didn't want any trouble. Even if Bagman seemed harmless in his want to have Harry win, Harry didn't want any more trouble. And Bagman was a stranger to him.

Bagman looked affronted and disappointed like Harry had let him down badly.

_What the hell?_

"I really must dash," Bagman said, looking at the door again, behind Fred and George.

"Nice seeing you, Mr Potter. Good luck." He said.

_Finally,_ Harry though, _someone who is using my last name, not taking liberties_!

"Thank you, sir," Harry started, but Bagman had already hurried out of the pub. The goblins all slid off their chairs and exited after him.

_Interesting_.

He turned to Fred, "what was that about?"

"Later," he said quietly.

"Come on, let's eat," said George pointing to the table Hermione and Neville had grabbed, that now held plates of food.

They went to rejoin them.

"What did he want?" Neville said the moment Harry had sat down.

"He offered to help me with the egg," said Harry.

"He shouldn't be doing that!" said Hermione, looking very shocked. "He's one of the judges! And anyway, you don't need it."

"Nope," said Harry happily, "to both those points."

"I hope he's trying to help Cedric as much!" said Hermione, still looking deeply disapproving.

"He's not," said Harry, "I got the impression he wants me to win. I think he placed a bet on me..." Harry finished ponderingly.

"Ah, he bet that you win, and if he's right it will clear his debt with the bank," Neville guessed.

George groaned, letting his head fall down on his twin's shoulder, muttering something.

"You okay?" Harry asked, their magic was swirling anxiously.

"Course," Fred said with a grin that despite looking convincing, didn't match the emotions Harry could sense bleeding of them.

"Right as rain," George said, smiling too, sitting up straight and taking a chip.

Harry did not believe them. He'd pick at it later.

"Those goblins didn't look happy," said Neville, "Did he say what they wanted?"

"Looking for Crouch," said Harry. "He's still not at work."

"Maybe Percys poisoning him," said Fred.

"Probably thinks if Crouch snuffs it," George said

"He'll be promoted to Head of the Department," Fred finished.

Hermione gave them a don't-joke-about-that look, and said, "Funny, goblins looking for Mr Crouch... They'd normally deal with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"And that name in itself is a bit insulting." Harry said "and would they actually go there? They hate wizards, and at least Crouch can speak loads of different languages," he continued. "Maybe they need an interpreter. But I think Bagman was lying. Just a feeling I had."

"Charlie was always right-"

"Whenever he got those feelings," the twins said.

Harry gave them a pointed look at that, but said, "speaking of your older brother, Bill said he'd call you on the mirror later."

"Sweet," said the twins with a grin, digging into lunch.

They'd just about finished their lunch when Neville pointed to the door and said, "oh no."

Harry's heart sank. Rita Skeeter had just entered. She was accompanied by her photographer, Bozo.

Goddess Harry felt sorry for the man, having to put up with her.

She bought drinks, and they made their way through the crowds to a table nearby. They glared at her as she approached. She was talking fast and looking very satisfied with something, not paying them any attention.

"-wasn't keen to talk to us, was he, Bozo? Now, why wouldn't he? And with goblins in tow? Showing them the sights... what utter rubbish... he is a bad liar. Something's up. I think we should do a bit of digging? 'Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman...' Snappy start to a sentence, Bozo - we just need to find a story for it -"

"Trying to ruin someone else's life no doubt," Hermione said snidely, perhaps a bit too loud.

A few people looked around. Rita Skeeter's eyes widened behind her jewelled spectacles as she saw who had spoken.

"Harry!" she said beaming. "How lovely! Why don't you come and join-?"

"No, thank you." He snapped shortly, "and it's Mr Potter, please. Only my friends call me Harry. Besides, I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick, as you well know." He said furiously. "Not after what you did to Hagrid, and the lie's you've already sprouted about me."

"Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry." She said with a smirk raising a pencilled eyebrow, "I am merely doing my-"

"Who cares if he's half-giant?" Harry said coldly. "There's nothing wrong with him! And my name is Mr Potter. You act far too familiar Ms Skeeter, it's highly inappropriate."

The whole pub had gone very quiet, listening in.

Rita Skeeters smile flickered very slightly, but she snapped open her crocodile-skin handbag, pulled out her Quick-Quotes Quill, "How about giving me an interview?"

"Not with you. Or that lying quill," Harry said cooly, "I only do interviews with Ms Lovegood of the Quibbler. It's the only paper I trust."

She snorted, "now see here, boy-"

Hermione stood up very abruptly, "you horrible woman," she said, through gritted teeth, "you don't care about anyone as long as you get a good story."

"Sit down you silly girl, don't talk about things you don't understand," Skeeters eyes hardened.

"I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl... not that it needs it," she added.

Before Hermione could snap back, Harry said conversationally, "you know this could have been great for you. If you hadn't tried to make up lies about me. If you had actually been a trustworthy person, I could work with. This could have been a very profitable working relationship. Instead, you through your weight around and made up a pack of lies, and missed out. Maybe you want to think about that next time, hmm?"

"You have no idea what you're playing with boy," she hissed "you'll regret not giving me what I want."

"Let's go," said Hermione, "c'mon."

They left; many people stared at them as they went.

Fred snickered, "that was fantastic!"

"Might want to be careful of her though, she holds a grudge," said George.

Harry glanced back as they reached the door. Rita Skeeter's Quick-Quotes Quill was out; it was zooming backward and forward over a piece of parchment on the table. He wanted to hex her. Maybe with a truth spell. He'd have to see if there was one.

"What a bitch," Hermione said.

"Hermione!" Neville exclaimed.

"It's true," she said, unrepentant, "anyway what are we all doing next?"

Harry cast a quick Tempus "we gotta go meet..." He trailed off, and the others nodded.

"We'll make your excuses if people ask," Neville said.

The twins went in the other direction, interrogating Neville about a plant that Harry wasn't familiar with that they were thinking of using in for a prank sweet idea.

"I brought the food," Hermione said, passing him a large package she seemed to have pulled from her pocket.

"Thanks," Harry said, stowing it in his own bag.

Harry and Hermione were heading towards the end of the road, and Harry had a hard time not dragging his feet.

"What's up, Harry?" Hermione asked perceptively as they passed Dervish and Bangs.

"I don't want to see Sirius," he said morosely, feeling conflicted.

"Want to talk about it?" She asked.

He was saved from answering by Diggory.

"Hey, Harry!" The older boy called.

Harry clenched his jaw, he didn't really want to deal with Diggory either. He didn't want to talk about the tournament with the boy, or anyone else really.

"It's Potter," he corrected, "we don't really know each other."

"Right, sorry, Potter," Diggory said, looking a bit taken aback.

"It's fine," Harry said, forcing a smile, "what do you need?"

"About the second task" he started but trailed off looking at Hermione. Who rolled her eyes, "can I have a word? In private?"

"Look," Harry said, cutting him off, "I'm sorry, I can't talk, I'm running late, the egg's a riddle in mermish if you're really stuck."

He turned on his heel-dragging a snickering Hermione with him, leaving a bewildered Diggory behind.

"He may have been trying to help you with it," she pointed out.

"What? Why?" Harry asked bewildered, "his house was on my ass all last term after my name came out, giving me the cold shoulder. They hate me, or they did. They've been quiet lately. And he made it clear after my name was pilled that he thought I'd cheated me way in. Why would he help me?"

"Maybe he felt guilty or felt he owed you. Why'd you tell him it was mermish?" She asked curiously.

"To shut him up, so he'd leave me alone." He said as if it were obvious.

"Fair enough. Now why don't you want to see Sirius?" she asked, looping her elbow through his.

His shoulders slumped, and he leaned into her side slightly, "been reading mum's diary's, they were bully's at school. Really horrible. Like Dudley. I can't explain the details as it's not my story to tell but..." He trailed off, "by the Goddess Hermione, they were so horrible, and it just got worse out of school with how they trapped mum into a marriage. She didn't want it, not marriage, not kids, she wanted nothing to do with them. She loved me, but I shouldn't have existed and its Sirius and James's fault. They got her drunk, trapped her in a contract. He helped James orchestrate it."

He bit down hard on his tongue, feeling strongly like crying. His godfather was not at all what he thought he was. Not at all what Harry had hoped he'd be. Not the family he'd so desperately craved and that pain burned in him, like an angry flame.

"I hate them," he whispered quietly, trying to restrain his emotions to keep from yelling, "for what they did to mum, and her friend! For not being what I thought they were, or what I needed them to be!"

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice full of pained sympathy she was about to pull him into a hug when a loud bark in the distance startled them.

A black dog was at barking at the end of the road and came bounding down the street to them, his tail wagging.

It was such a sharp difference from the Sirius in his mother diary's that Harry had trouble reconciling the two for a moment. It took Harry all his will not to shove Sirius off him when he jumped up and licked his face, his tail wagging.

Hermione looked at Harry as if to say, 'I can make an excuse, we can leave.'

But Harry just shook his head. Sirius was still his godfather. Maybe 12 years in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit had changed the man. The man was here, after all. Maybe he did care. Maybe he could still be someone Harry could look at with ought feeling shame.

But Harry didn't really have much hope, as he and Hermione climbed over the stile and followed the excitable black dog.

Bit of a cliff hanger, next chapter is big it took me weeks to get right! :)


	73. Chapter 73 Sirius's Reckoning

Your getting this a day early as my motherboard is fried and the laptop is in the shop. And it's 5am on a Friday and I'm awake with a phone so happy reading.

Sorry the formatting of the paragraphs is iffy. I can't fix that on my phone right now. So you'll have to wait while the laptop fixed. But I figured you would rather iffy formatting and a new chapter than having to wait.

I'll re post it when the laptops fixed with the proper formatting. So if it really shits you, you'll can wait another week or so.

A bit long, but important

Yes some bits are from the book, but its been heavily tweaked and adjusted to fit my plot.

I'm so pleased with this chapter, it took ages, I worked really hard on it.

Sirius led them to the very foot of the mountain, where the ground was covered with boulders and rocks, and very little shrubbery. It was steep, but Harry and Hermione were fit from running and had little trouble keeping up.

After a while, Sirius slipped out of sight, and they saw a narrow fissure in the rock. They slid in to find in a cool, dimly lit cave. Tethered at the end of it, one end of his rope around a large rock, was Buckbeak the hippogriff.

Harry wondered absently how Buckbeak had fit through the small mouth of the cave.

They bowed low to him, and after regarding them regal for a moment, Buckbeak bent his scaly front knees and allowed Hermione to rush forward and stroke his feathery neck. Harry, however, was looking at the black dog, which had just turned into his godfather.

Sirius was wearing the ratty robes from Azkaban. His hair was matted again, and he was very thin. Harry winced and pulled out the packet of food.

"Real Food!" Sirius said hoarsely diving on it, tearing the package open, before grabbing a drumstick and tearing off a large chunk with his teeth.

"Thanks," said Sirius chewing and swallowing hurriedly and tearing off another mouthful.

Harry winced, as hurt and furious as he was with the man, he couldn't not feel sympathy for him. He knew that hunger. He knew what it was to truly be starving. He should have known, should have sent Sirius food before now.

"I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself." He grinned up at Harry, but Harry didn't manage to return the grin.

"What're you doing here, Sirius?" he said.

"Don't worry! I'm pretending to be a loveable stray so I can fulfil my duty as godfather," said Sirius, as if trying to make a joke. But the way he was gnawing on the chicken bone hungrily made it fall flat.

Harry stared, really? Was he really here for him? But then Sirius cared about him enough to live off rats in a cave? He felt awful for being so angry at the man, for not thinking to send food before now, for letting his godfather down. But still. He'd been so angry at Sirius's actions, but still, Sirius was supposed to be family.

"Sirius..." he said, "what if you're found?"

"Don't worry Harry, this place is safe. Dumbledore suggested it when I said I wanted to be close and keep an eye on things."

Harry felt cold inside. Keep an eye on what? Or who? And for whom was he doing it for? But if he was only here on Dumbledore's wishes, then surely no one would live off rats just for a job? He felt his anger returning, but he clamped down on it.

Still, if Dumbledore knew Sirius was here, "and he couldn't send you food?" Harry asked incredulously, "if he suggested you stay here?"

"He's a busy man Harry," Sirius said dismissively, "doesn't have time to look after me and besides I'm a free man again! I can look after myself. Though if you do feel like sending across some, I wouldn't say no." Sirius grinned, tearing off another mouthful of chicken.

Harry sighed and resolved to ask Dobby to send Sirius meals.

"What does Dumbledore want you to do?" Hermione asked, sitting down next to Buckbeak.

"Well, let's put it this way. I'm not the only one who's getting worried, things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out," Sirius said, tearing off another hunk of chicken and practically swallowing it whole.

He jabbed a chicken bone in the direction of the yellowing Daily Prophets. Harry, however, ignored them.

"What if they catch you? What if you're seen? Sirius, it's not safe! You shouldn't even be in the country!"

"You two and Dumbledore are the only ones around here, and the only ones who know I'm an Animagus," Sirius sighed exasperatedly, and continuing to devour the chicken leg.

"and Pettigrew! Who knows who he's told!" Harry said,

Sirius waved a drumstick dismissively, "and your friend Ron, he knows. Where is he by the way?"

Harry flicked open the papers, "not with us at the moment," he said vaguely, not wanting to discuss it.

The newspapers were from that morning and from earlier in the week. The headlines were the articles about Crouch being ill, and Jorkins missing.

"We saw them, we've been following the papers. Crouch's been up at the castle," Hermione told Sirius, "with Moody, Harry saw it on the map."

"Apparently Crouch is suffering from overwork," Harry said.

"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" Hermione added snidely.

Harry nodded, shuffling over to join her at Buckbeak's side. The Hippogryph pushed his beak into Harry's hand in greeting but went back to crunching up Sirius's chicken bones.

"Crouch sacked his house-elf?" Sirius said sharply.

"Yeah, at the World Cup, the ass," said Harry, as Hermione launched into the story. Harry was glad that she avoided mentioning that he had taken Winky on.

Sirius was on his feet now, pacing.

"Let me get this straight," he said after a while, brandishing the half-finished chicken carcass. "You first saw the elf in the Top Box, saving Crouch a seat, but he never showed up?"

"Winky," said Harry, and Hermione together.

"he was too busy apparently," continued Hermione.

Sirius paced all around the cave in silence. Then he said, "Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?"

"No," he said finally, wincing at his own stupidity. "I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars." He stared at Sirius. "Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?"

"It's possible," said Sirius, "so they either didn't have one or didn't want to get caught with a spell-like that on their wand. Which is more likely really. Everyone has a wand unless their ex-convicts like me." He snorted self deprecatingly.

"That would make sense," Hermione said. "But Winky didn't steal it!" She finished insistently making Buckbeak toss his head nervously. Harry ran a hand down his neck, soothingly.

"Who else was in the box?" asked Sirius, his brow furrowed as he continued to pace.

"Loads of people," said Harry. "Some Bulgarian ministers... Fudge... the Malfoy's... did I miss anyone?" Harry turned to Hermione.

"Bagman," Hermione reminded him.

"I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps," said Sirius, "What's he like?"

"Weird," Harry said, "He keeps offering to help me with the Tournament. We think he made a bet on me winning, to pay off his gambolling debt. He's in trouble with the goblins. It was in the Quibbler."

Sirius snorted at the mention of the magazine, but said, "Is he? I doubt the goblins would have gone for another bet to settle the original one unless it was a near curtain thing and Dumbledore did say you're not doing too well. So if that's true Bagman, will probably offer help again."

Harry frowned, but said nothing.

"Oh, and we saw Bagman in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared," Hermione said. "Remember?" she said to Harry.

Harry nodded, "Yeah, but he the moment we told him about the riot, he went off. Maybe to the campsite?" he said, turning to Hermione.

"How do you know?" Hermione argued. Not for the sake of argument but more because that was how they worked things out.

"How d'you know where he disapparated too?" She continued.

"We don't. But why would he apparate into the forest? Unless he knows it well, he'd just apparate into a tree. He didn't seem likely to conjure the mark. You saying you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?"

"I don't know, but we know it's not Winky," Hermione said.

Harry nodded.

"When the Mark was conjured, and the elf discovered, what did Crouch do?" Sirius asked

"Winky," Harry corrected, "and he looked furious, and went to look in the bushes, but wasn't anyone else there..."

"or if there was, he denied it or didn't find them," Hermione pointed out.

"Of course," Sirius muttered still pacing up and down, "he'd want to pin it on anyone but his own elf... then he sacked her?"

"Winky, and yes," said Hermione in a heated voice, "he sacked her just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled. He's a horrible, horrible man."

"He must have known how she'd handle it," Harry add irritably, remembering how miserable she'd been when he first found her in the kitchens. He'd gotten very fond of his elf friends.

Sirius nodded, "I won't disagree. You have the measure of Crouch. If you want to know what a mans like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."

Harry clenched his jaw feeling sick, what did the treatment of Sev and Lily say about Sirius and his father then?

Sirius ran a hand over his unshaven face, evidently thinking hard, "all these absences of Barty Crouch's... he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf-"

"Winky," cut in Hermione irritably.

He ignored her, "-saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament and then stops coming. It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak."

"Please don't" Harry deadpanned, "I like Buckbeak."

Hermione snorted and said, "so you know Crouch then?"

"You were an Auror, weren't you?" Harry added, "did you know him...?" He trailed off as Sirius's face darkened.

He looked suddenly just as menacing as he had the night when Harry first met him, the night when Harry still believed Sirius to be a murderer. Harry shivered.

"He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban without a trial," Sirius said coldly.

"What?!" said Hermione as Harry said, "Really?!"

"I'm not kidding," said Sirius, tossing the now clean chicken carcass to Buckbeak and grabbing more chicken from the food package. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"He was set to be the next Minister of Magic," said Sirius. "He is a powerfully magical wizard, and power-hungry. Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But you wouldn't understand... you're too young..."

Harry narrowed his eyes; too young to understand, but not too young to be forced into a tournament that could kill him. Too young to understand anything but not too young to be stuck in a house full of the abusing ass holes he had to call relatives.

"Try me," he said his voice all steel.

A grin flashed across Sirius's thin face, but Harry didn't think it a laughing matter.

"All right, I'll try you..." He said, "Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't. You know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, your family, and your friends.

Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing... the Ministry of Magic's in disarray. They don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere... panic... confusion... that's how it used to be."

And Harry could imagine it, and that was what it may be like again. It wasn't that bad now, but he knew not being able to trust, not knowing what would come next. He knew that desperate fear of the unknown. And by the goddess, he didn't want his friends to ever have to. He didn't want any of them to have to see that world that Sirius was painted with his words.

Times like that bring out the best in some people," Sirius started again.

"and the worst in others," Harry guessed a little hoarse.

Sirius nodded, "Crouch rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers. Powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. I wasn't the only one-handed straight to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorised the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects."

Harry and Hermione gaped at him, but he just snorted.

"He became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, though. Plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way."

"People turn on each other when they're scared or desperate," Harry said quietly.

Hermione nodded, "just look at history."

Sirius looked at them with an expression of a surprise but went on, "there were a lot of witches and wizards clamouring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened..." Sirius smiled grimly.

"Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently, they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

"Crouch has a son?" Harry asked curiously.

"He was a Death Eater?" gasped Hermione.

"What was his name?" Harry asked suddenly, wondering if that's who Winky had been talking about.

"Yes, he did, don't know what his name was. I don't know if he really was a death eater or just caught up in the wrong crowd," said Sirius, throwing his last chicken bone to Buckbeak, flinging himself back down on the ground beside the loaf of bread, and tearing it in half.

"Nasty little shock for old Barty." Sirius sneered, "Ought to have left the office early once in a while... gotten to know his own son. Bastard"

He began to wolf down large chunks of bread.

"The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters - but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like that house-elf."

"Winky," Harry reminded him, "she has a name. She's at Hogwarts now."

Sirius waved her off, but Hermione snapped, "house-elves are people too! Why are so many Wizards so dismissive of their rights!"

Sirius's expression started to mirrors Ron's when she'd been talking about S.P.E.W. She let out a frustrated sigh and asked instead, "so did Crouch try and get his son off?"

Sirius let out a harsh laugh that was much more of a bark.

"I thought you had the measure of him! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; like his elf."

He snorted again, "he dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she connected him to the Dark Mark, wrong place wrong time. Doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial but wasn't more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy... To throw the boy to the wolves, so to speak, to recover his own reputation; straight to Azkaban."

"He gave his own son to the dementors?" asked Harry quietly. It somehow did and didn't surprise him. The Dursley's were his family, and they would have done it. But the fact someone like that had been in a position of power in the Ministry... he shivered.

"Yes," said Sirius, and he didn't look remotely amused now.

"Saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through my cell door. He was young, screaming for his mother, begging for mercy. Went quiet after a few days, though... They all do... except when they shrieked in their sleep..."

The deadened look in Sirius's eyes became more pronounced than ever, as though shutters had closed behind his eyes.

"So he's still in Azkaban?" Harry said, said, trying to distract his godfather.

"No," said Sirius sharply, "died a year later."

"He died?" Harry said his shoulders slumping, Winky must have just been talking about Crouch Snr then.

"He wasn't the only one," Sirius spat bitterly. "Most go mad, plenty lose the will to live, would stop eating and drinking. They'd just sit there waiting to die. You could always tell when a death was coming. The dementors got excited, hovered. That boy looked sick when he arrived. Crouch and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit.

That was the last time I saw Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself apparently, shortly afterwards, grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Serves Crouch right, he never even came for his son's body. The dementors buried him."

Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up the flask of pumpkin juice and drained it in one go as if wishing it were something stronger. He sighed and shook his head in a dog-like way.

"Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he laughed harshly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic...next, his son dead, wife dead, family name dishonoured, a big drop in popularity. It serves him right, the bloody bastard," he spat.

People were a bit more sympathetic toward the son, once he was dead, I guess and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. Too late for the boy, though. But the conclusion was that his father never cared for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

Harry remembered the way Crouch's eyes had bulged as he'd looked down at Winky back in the wood at the Quidditch World Cup. This, then, must have been why Crouch had overreacted to Winky being found beneath the Dark Mark.

It had brought back memories of his son, the old scandal, and his fall from grace at the Ministry. He must have been mortified. Still, it was no excuse to treat Winky like dirt. But Harry was grateful that the elf was now part of his family, not Crouch's.

"Crouch has been with Moody in his office a few times," Harry told Sirius, "he was on the map."

"Odd. Why did he make an effort to drag himself up to Moody's office if he's ill? And if he's not... what's he up to?" Sirius pondered, "and what was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the Tournament? Why's he up at the school talking to Moody. It doesn't make sense. The bastard is a stickler for the rules. It must be big if he's not showing up to things."

"Moody said Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards," Hermione offered.

"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him," said Sirius, nodding. "If you ask me, he thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."

"Could he be looking for more death eaters here?" Asked Hermione

"We do know there is a servant at Hogwarts," Harry said, "they entered me."

"But the only ones we know of are Professor Snape, who's on our side," Hermione continued, "and Headmaster Karkaroff, who is terrified."

Harry winced as he saw Sirius grimace at the mention of Snape. Harry felt sick at the reminder of what his godfather and his father had done not only to Professor Snape, Sev, but also to his mum.

Anger coiled in his gut, but he pushed it back. It had been simmering in the background ever since he'd started his mother's diary. But he wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about it, or avoid it, or to yell at Sirius for it.

"So," Harry said instead, "Did Dumbledore set it up to keep an eye on things? Are they looking for death eaters?"

"He brought Moody in yes, but Crouch..., no, not that I know of." said Sirius, "moody is retired, and Crouch is no longer in law enforcement. Why would they be working together?"

"Karkaroff was in Potions the other day," Hermione said, "he wanted to talk to Professor Snape. Karkaroff was really worried and showed him his dark mark. In class!"

"It's been getting darker apparently," Harry added, "because he's coming back."

"How do you know that death eaters have the dark mark?" Sirius asked.

"I looked the dark mark up after the cup," Hermione said, neatly avoiding telling Sirius (and therefor Dumbledore) that they were researching.

Sirius nodded, "it makes no sense for crouch to be lurking in the castle."

"And he was in Professor Snape's office the other night, too," Hermione said.

"I don't think Professor Snape knew," Harry said.

"And why would he investigate Professor Snape?" Hermione added.

Sirius made a nasty face, "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, Snivillus was," Sirius said, looking distant and jet disgusted.

"Don't call him that," Harry snapped, not able to clamp down on his anger any more.

"Sirius!" Hermione scolded, "he's our Professor!"

But Sirius just rolled his eyes, and batted a hand at them, "the prick knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters." He said with a sneer.

"There were Rosier and Wilkes, they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges are now in Azkaban. Avery apparently wormed his way out of trouble claiming the Imperious Curse and so did McNair." Sirius went on.

Harry mentally added those names to the list of death eaters to research. They hadn't found much yet, hadn't had time yet, but he'd made a little headway with researching Riddle.

"McNair is beheading dangerous creatures, for the ministry," Hermione added, stroking Buckbeak, "he tried to do Buckbeak in."

Sirius grimaced but went on, "As far as I know Snape," Sirius looking at Harry pointedly, "was never even accused of being a Death Eater, unlike the rest. Not that that means much, plenty of them were never caught." He added darkly.

"He's on our side. He saved my life several times!" Harry snapped shortly. He didn't like Professor Snape, but he knew he wasn't on Riddle's side. Not after the death of Sev's sister, Lily, Harry's mum. Not when he had vowed to protect Harry, even if he was not very nice.

Hermione put a calming hand on Harry's arm.

Sirius stared at the cave wall, then made a grimace of frustration, "so it's odd that Crouch in Snape's office. Even if Snape is a slimy git, you're right, Dumbledore trusts him, even if I think he's daft for it.

If Crouch wants to investigate Snape or Karkaroff, why hasn't he been coming to judge the Tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him," said Sirius.

"I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye though to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defence Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising."

"What's he like? Moody, I mean," asked Harry, "he seems kind of weird, kind of gives me the creeps. He tried to help me with the first task too."

"He put us under the imperious curse in class, to show us how to fight it off," Hermione said with a shudder.

"Did he?" Sirius said surprised, "that's the sort of nuts thing he'd do, I suppose."

Harry and Hermione stared.

"I will say this though," Sirius went on, "Moody never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters."

Sirius lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked.

Finally, Sirius sighed, "keep your eyes and ears open and keep me in the loop. Now, how much time have you got? It's not safe for you to sneak out to see me whenever you like, but I can sneak into the castle and keep an eye out. We could even meet up on weekends in the shack just like old times. I'll come as Padfoot."

"No!" Harry and Hermione yelled immediately.

"It's not safe, Sirius!" Hermione said

"It's crawling with ministry officials and journalists at the moment! It will be all year. You're a wanted fugitive, Sirius! What are you thinking," Harry said, wondering when he had become the adult. He'd have to put an alert ward on the tunnel under the willow, so he knew when people were going into the shack. Just in case Sirius went up to the school anyway.

"You're less like your father than I thought..." Sirius muttered darkly.

Harry pressed his lips into a tight line and clenched his jaw.

"The risk would've been what made it fun for James..." Sirius went on.

"I don't want to be anything like him!" Harry burst out suddenly, unable to hold it back, "I want nothing to do with my father! He was an ass! You all were! I can't believe I have to call him my Dad!"

"Harry James Potter! What are you on about?" Sirius said sounding genuinely puzzled and horrified.

"James Potter was a git!" Harry spat out, "he was a bully Sirius! And so were you! What you did after O.W.L.s by the lake, and the shack-" Harry cut himself off before he could betray his professor's privacy even more. He flicked up a privacy ward with a grimace. Hermione shrugged, not bothered, and turned back to Buckbeak.

"Oh? Heard about old Snivillus, did you?" Sirius sneered. He looked nothing like the godfather Harry had met and too much like the arrogant bully in photos in the Marauder's Grimoire.

"It was a prank, the slimy bastard was trying to get Remus expelled as a dangerous creature. We were just teaching him a lesson. Why are you Snivillus it secret from Hermione anyway, he's a slime ball, who cares?"

he said, dispelling the privacy ward with a harsh jab of a wand Harry didn't recognise, when had Sirius gotten a wand?

Harry barrelled onwards furious, "He was trying to get you in trouble, he hated you, and for a good reason. But he thought you were making moonshine or something! He didn't know Lupin was a werewolf!"

Sirius snorted, "I can't believe your defending Snape, James would be rolling in his grave. It was just a bit of fun."

"Sirius! You harassed him!" Harry said, wincing internally when he caught Hermione's wide eyes surprised expression at the mention of her teacher. He'd not told her that his mum's best friend was their Potion master, and that alone was the only reason he hadn't let her read his mum's diaries. He hoped said potion master never found out Hermione now new too.

"So we pantsed him once or twice." Sirius continued in a huff, "We were young and stupid. We grew up. And what does it matter now?"

"Once or twice?!" Harry said, "Sirius! You stripped him in front of the whole school! That's fucked!

Sirius snorted, ignoring Hermione's horrified gasp. "Don't be stupid, Harry, James just pantsed him, Who cares?"

"Are you for real? You stripped him naked in front of everyone and humiliated him, that's sick. That's sexual assault, and in the muggle world, that's illegal."

Sirius snorted, "He wasn't naked he had a shirt on! And he deserved it, He shot a cutting curse at James' face! He gave as good as he got."

"Really?" Harry asked horrified, "so he stripped you four naked? It was four on one! What did he possibly to do deserve it?"

"We were young Harry, it was nothing. Don't judge your Dad by that alone, he grew out of it. He was the best friend I ever had, he was a good man," Sirius said.

"A good man? After what he did? What you did? You just said to judge a man by how he treated his inferiors," Harry said hollowly, "what does that say of you then if you look at how you treated Professor Snape."

"Paah, Snivillus doesn't count. He's not an inferior he's nothing." Sirius snorted, "A slimy scum ball infatuated with the dark arts and stalked your mum! He was practically a death eater from the start! He knew more dark spells than anyone I knew. He was a nobody, Harry, he was nothing. He wasn't good enough to be our inferior."

"He was a nobody?" Harry echoed hollowly, "I'm a nobody! A nothing, like he is. What do you think of me, then?"

"What no-" Sirius started, only to be cut off.

"I was him, Sirius. If I'd been in school with you, you'd have treated me just the same as you did him. I was that nobody, with greasy hair because my stupid relatives didn't let me wash, and ratty clothes because I was a piece of shit who didn't deserve their own things for fuck's sake! You would have treated me just the same. James and the rest of you lot were horrible!" Harry spat.

"No, we weren't!" Sirius snapped sharply, and Harry flinched despite himself. Hermione gripped his arm, "Harry" she said in anxious warningly.

She squeezed his hand comfortingly.

Sirius took a deep breath and then started again "I wouldn't like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry. He was only fifteen —"

"I'm nearly fifteen, and I know it's wrong!" Harry snapped.

"Look, Harry," Sirius placated, "James and Snape hated each other from the moment they set eyes on each other, it was just one of those things, you can understand that, can't you? I think James was everything Snape wanted to be - he was popular, he was good at Quidditch, good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts and James, always hated the Dark Arts."

"Yeah," Harry snorted bitterly, "but that day by the lake, after your Defence O.W.L, my father attacked Snape for no good reason just because you said you were bored."

Sirius snorted, smiling in nostalgic amusement, "Look, Harry, what you've got to understand is that your father and the rest of us were the best, the height of cool, we let it go to our heads and got carried away—"

"Carried away?" Harry said incredulously.

"Look," he said, "your father was the best friend I ever had, and he was a good person. A lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. He grew out of it."

"Did he though?" Harry said cuttingly, "Mum never would have started with him if it wasn't to keep the two of them safe from you lot. She never would have married him if you lot hadn't trapped her in that contract. You tricked her! You got her drunk so she'd have sex with him, to trap her in a marriage she didn't want!" He spat, "I wouldn't have existed! She didn't want marriage or kids!"

Sirius snorted, "All girls want marriage and kids!"

Ignoring Hermione's indignant snort, he went on, "They were both drunk. We may have topped up their glass a few times to give them a bit of a push, it was nothing, they both wanted it. It was completely harmless."

"Harmless!? You both knew that if she got slept with him, she'd be trapped! That doesn't make it okay! I can't believe my father was such a dick! That you were such a manipulative shit head. You both were!"

"Shut your mouth, James was a good man!" Sirius defended heatedly, "She agreed to have sex with him and therefore marry him. She should have been more careful if she didn't want it!"

"She may have if she wasn't drunk you saw to that! And she certainly didn't agree to have a kid! Or get married! She didn't know about half the tricks you put in that contract! It was written in invisible ink!"

"That was the oldest trick in the book, I couldn't believe she fell for it!" He snorted.

"It was wrong to trick her into it, to manipulate and use her. That's horrid. And you claim to hate the dark arts!" Harry spat, "I can't believe-"

"What on earth does this have to do with the dark arts?" Sirius interrupted completely confused.

"You lot manipulated her. You all trapped her in a contract she didn't fully agree too and got her drunk to force her hand. That's manipulation at its finest. It's dark."

"It's not dark, it's giving them a little push, what's the big deal?" Sirius asked with a frown

"It was a shitty thing to do." Harry spat his magic bubbling around him, "It was wrong! You were horrible, manipulative bastards, and it was cruel what you did. To both of them. You tried to murder him and trap her! I've been bloody manipulated all my life, trapped and spelled but Dumbledore to boot. That's fucking dark, and it's fucking wrong."

Hermione gripped his arm hard, murmuring, "Harry be careful!"

"Dumbledore wouldn't-" Sirius started.

But Harry cut him off, "Are you calling me a liar Sirius? Wake up and stop worshipping the man. He's not as light as he makes you think, he's a manipulative bastard who never should have let you go to Azkaban without a trial. He's the sodding Chief Warlock! And that's beside the fucking point," Harry spat, "Dumbledore used magic to manipulate me to be his puppet, that was wrong!"

"How are the spells Dumbledore put on me any different from what you and James did to my mum!" he went on, "You hid half the contract, trapping her into a marriage she didn't want, for life." Harry spat, so angry that he could hardly get the words out clearly, "that was dark and so was what you and James did in school!

You're both dark. You and James disgust me! Wake up Sirius Black and see what you've become. You think you're a good man. Your not, you and James and the rest of you little gang of bullies are skum!"

Sirius reeled as if he'd been slapped.

"You shut your mouth, Harry James!" Sirius spat back, standing nose to nose with Harry now, making Harry stumble back into Hermione, who wrapped her arm around him steadyingly and swiftly disarmed Sirius, his wand landing somewhere behind Buckbeak.

But Harry didn't notice, his eyes were fixed wearily on Sirius. Was Sirius going to hit him?

But he didn't, ignoring Hermine disarming him completely he just kept yelling at Harry, "you take that back! We may have gone a bit far sometimes, but we were never dark! We were never cruel, we never practised the dark arts like Snivillus did! We were always better than him and all those dark death eater prats!"

"You're projecting Harry, your looking at what your horrid relatives did to you and seeing what you want to see. Merlin knows why you're empathising with Snivillus. Your Dad was a good man."

"They got drunk" Sirius continued not giving an astonished Harry time to say anything.

"She got knocked up. Accidents happen. It turned out alright in the end. They were happy. She wasn't tricked into it. It was an arrayed marriage. That shit happens all the time. Why are you so worked up about this?"

"She didn't want to be with him!" Harry cried, utterly astounded, not at all sure who he was talking to anymore. Part of him hadn't wanted to believe that the man that was his godfather, who was meant to be his guardian, who had signed his Hogsmeade form was as horrible as the one his mum has written about. But it was here in front of him as clear as day.

He thought he would have fallen if Hermione hadn't been practically holding him up.

"She didn't want a kid during the war!" He said hurt and desperate, "She didn't want to have me, you forced it! Yeah, she was glad I existed once I did, but she didn't want kids. How could you trap her that way? She wanted to leave, to get her mastery and travel the world. How could you help James trick her? How could you two do that to my mum?"

"Of course, I helped James! James was my best friend. There was nothing I wouldn't have done for him. He wanted Lily, so I helped him get her. There was nothing wrong with that, Harry. What's your problem? People had arranged marriages all the time. His parents were arranged and hated each other at first but grew to love each other. Lily just needed a bit of a push, no harm was done."

"Sirius!"

"Harry! I can't believe I have to defend your Dad to you!" Sirius exclaimed. "It happened all the time. What is it that you don't understand Harry? Arranged marriages are perfectly normal. Only James and I worked it out this time, not his parents. Nothing wrong with that.

Your mum loved your Dad. Not at first, but she grew to like him. Your Dad was the best friend I ever had." He continued, his tone more even now, "He was a good man. He gave me a home, a family, he was my best friend. He grew out of the git he was at school. We all did. Everyone is a dick when they're teenagers.

"You guys didn't give her a choice!" Harry spat, why was his godfather not listening!

"So she didn't get a choice," Sirius said flippantly, "lots of people didn't get a choice who they married. Theirs nothing wrong with that, Harry. It's normal. Loads of people have arranged marriages."

"Normal doesn't make it okay! Doesn't make it right!" Harry said heatedly, "I would hate that! I absolutely hate it!"

Sirius frowned, "what's with you today? Your very argumentative and grumpy?"

Harry stared at the man who was meant to be his godfather, not recognising him. The man who terrified and confused him and left his heart tided up in knots. The man who left him feeling empty and bitter and filled with a seething hatred because he did not want this awful stranger that reality presented! He wanted a godfather, a guardian, an adult who was meant to be on his side! An adult who was meant to be family, and was meant to care and have his back. Not one hell-bent on ignorance and sheer chaotic destruction that seemed to only help tear his world apart before he'd even existed!

And why did every adult who was meant to be his family turn out to fuck him up or let him down! It started back with the marauders and his father, then it moved to the Dursley's helped along by Dumbledore. At least Riddle was just trying to straight-up murder him.

He was coming to truly see that found family was infinitely better and infinitely more reliable than his first family.

But that didn't stop it hurting.

"Who are you?" He asked hollowly.

"Who am I? Who are you, siding with your father's nemesis, siding with Snivillus!?" Sirius said getting mad again.

"Don't call him that!" Harry spat again, his fury bubbling over.

"Harry he-"

"No! Don't you get it?" Harry cried, so furious he was almost in tears, "You're just like my relatives! James was just like my relatives. He was a bullying, abusive asshole, and so are you! You're not who I thought you were. I don't even know you anymore!"

"Harry-" Sirius started suddenly sounding horrified.

"Stop," Harry said, his voice hollow. "Just stop. I've had enough. I never thought I'd feel sorry for Professor Snape. I never thought I'd be glad my father is dead!" He spat.

"You take that back!" Sirius said lividly, "you take that back Harry James, take it back!"

"No." Harry said, standing his ground, "and don't call me that. I'm not his. He may be biologically my sire, but he's not my family. I thought he'd be a hero, not someone else's Dursley's, not someone I'd be so ashamed of. I wish I'd never met you, and I'm glad he's dead. So you lot can't damage anyone else's lives!" Harry spat in disgust, yanking away from a stunned Hermione and stalking out of the cave without a backward glance.

"You take that back, Harry James!" Sirius yelled, but Harry had already dashed out of the cave and was starting down the slope of the mountain almost tripping as he sped up.

Sirius bolted after him, and Harry broke into a sprint, leaping over rocks and boulders, his heart pounding, suddenly not too sure if it was his godfather or his uncle or cousin he was fleeing from.

"You walk out, don't expect to come back!" Sirius yelled.

Harry just kept running, desperate to get away from the stranger that should have been his godfather, his family, his guardian.

"Yeah! You keep running!" Black yelled behind him, no longer chasing to Harry's enormous relief.

Black turned to go back into the cave only to find himself nose to nose with a furious Hermione.

"You fool Sirius Black!" She spat, pressing her wand to his throat.

"Hermione-"

"Don't you Hermione me! You leave Harry alone!" She spat all righteous fury.

"Hermione,-" he tried again.

"I mean it! Leave Harry alone and don't breathe a word of this to anyone! And stop spying on Harry for Dumbledore! The man is practically criminal in his negligence of your godson! Your. GODSON! Who should be the person you care about most in the world!"

"I don't spy! He asks! He's worried about Harry, he's a good man, he's got Harry's best interests at heart-"

She moved as quick as lightning and before he could blink she had a knife in her other hand and pressed against his crotch. Just like Harry had taught her.

"I don't care what your excuse is! You have hurt Harry too often, too much. And not just harry. I'm sick of you picking Dumbledore over your godson. It is tearing him apart. He deserves so much better than you and James Potter," she spat." But I have heard enough. Now make an oath, or I'll chop your balls off, so help me god-

"Don't have any balls," he cut in trying to joke off the tension, "Lily already hexed them off. Twice. Didn't grow back the second time. That's why Harry's my heir. Can't have kids."

"She what? You what?" Hermione said, almost getting derailed, before, ""screw that, never mind!"

"I can still cut your dick off!" She threatened, "You will stop betraying Harry, and you will leave him alone! You will not mention a word of this conversation to anyone, least of all, Dumbledore.

I don't care if you don't believe Harry about the compulsions, or about how Dumbledore has failed him and used him. I don't care. You will not breathe a word of this or let on that Harry knows about it. Do you understand?! You'll make a vow." she ordered furiously.

"Stop stringing him on. We both know you're never going to be well enough or legally allowed to be his guardian. He's not your best mate. He's your godson. You should have acted like it!"

Black snorted, "nice try. I was an Auror, you think I'm going to be outsmarted by a 14-year-old girl." Black jerked sideways away from her and summoned her wand wandlessly.

Or tried too.

His charm was weak, and the wand he'd acquired since escaping Azkaban, was still on the floor of the cave near Buckbeak. Hermione and Harry had been practising for that kind of thing because they'd been paranoid. She was especially grateful now, as it meant she managed to hang onto her wand, just before it slipped out of her fingers.

She kneed him in the balls as hard as she could, just like Harry had shown her.

Black dropped to the ground with a cry. He lay there, clutching himself, whining in pain, more like a dog than a man. He looked like he was trying not to be sick.

Good.

"Do not underestimate me, Sirius Black." She said, her wand pressing into his throat again.

"You and your little gang were and are horrible people from what little I've heard and seen," she said, through gritted teeth, "Harry and I have walked through hell together, and there is nothing I would not do to keep him safe. You have hurt him too many times, have failed him too many times and I am tired of watching it-"

"You've got this all wrong, out of proportion-" Black wheezed.

"No," she spat, "you have it all wrong Sirius Black. Stay the fuck away from Harry. You do more harm than good. You're pathetic."

He reeled back as if she had struck him with more than just words, and stealing herself, she cast her spell with not a hint of regret.


End file.
